


Light on the Dark Side of Me

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ballet, Conditioning, Dogs, Fainting, Ficlet Collection, Gallows Humor, Nosebleed, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro gets a dog, Space Mall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: When Tumblr gives you broken read mores, get AO3.A collection of various stories from Tumblr.  Unbeta'd and wildly varied.See first chapter for index





	1. Chapter Index

1) The team goes back to the space mall, this time with Shiro

2) Matt recounts a time on the trip to Kerberos and Shiro earns his nerd cred

3) Shiro passes out

4) Shiro has a Pavlovian reaction to a certain item

5) Matt sees Shiro flirting ala Your Grace is Wasted (Shatt)

6) Shiro gets a taste of his own dark humor medicine  
  
7) The first time Keith experienced Shiro's darker sense of humor

8) Shiro has a bad morning. Coran helps.  
  
9) The team plays dodge ball and Shiro is Really Damn Extra  
  
10) While digging through rubble, Shiro finds something that reminds of him of his childhood  
  
11) Hunk gets a nosebleed and Shiro gets a flashback  
  
12) Space Mall goes a little differently for Zarkon  
  
13) The Paladins find out what Shiro discussed with Coran and Allura in With Every Broken Bone  
  
14) "I love you" doesn't translate well in Galran (Uliro)

15) Pidge and Keith discuss Cryptids

16) Pidge and Keith pretend to be siblings

17) The team has to paint a room

18) The Black Lion tries out Shiro's tense of taste, and Pidge and Keith get their fun out of a weird situation

19) Shiro activates the Black Bayard


	2. Chapter Index

How about writing about Shiro's first trip to the space mall? We never did get to see what his reaction to it would be.

Shiro’s expression blanked as they walked into he mall, head moving in slow circles as he took it all in.  The mall rose up around them, several stories to explore and no ability to read the maps and figure out where they were.  As usual.  

“Okay,” Hunk said.  “Uh, do we want to split this up by floors?  Looks like there’s five of ‘em.  Might be easier.  I can take the first one.”

Pidge snorted.  “You hoping to take over another cafeteria restaurant again?”

Crinkling his nose, Hunk shook his head.  “No, I just don’t like being on the higher floors.  I don’t like the railings.  Food court’s just a bonus.”  He paused, considering.  “You think, this time I could probably make some money at it, and get some extra food supplies.”

“Not worth it,” Lance replied.  “Didn’t the guy shackle you the first time?”

“Well, yeah,” Hunk admitted.  “But he let me out.”

Lance eyed him blandly.  Before he could reply, Keith cleared his throat.  “Uh, Shiro, you okay?”

Finally turning to look at them, Shiro seemed to freeze, eyes just a little too bright.  “It’s a mall.”

All four of them stared back.  “Yeah?” Pidge replied.  “That’s the point.  That’s why we’re here.”

“No, it’s a _mall_.  When you said it before, I thought you were being… how is it a mall?  There are _escalators.”_   Shiro gestured back to one, which was slowly raising and lowering groups of aliens onto the different floors.”

Watching for a moment, Lance gave a slow nod.  “They do.  Maybe escalators are just so useful they’re all over the galaxy?”

Shiro shook his head.  “We could be in a suburb.  This is _weird.”_

“Shiro, I hate to tell you this, but our life is weird.”  Keith gave him a sarcastic little pat on the arm.  “Last time we were here you were astral projecting with a giant robot lion with the emperor of the universe.  You draw the line here?”

Frowning, Shiro considered.  “Yes.”

Keith only rolled his eyes. 

Glancing between them both, Pidge finally nodded to Shiro.  “You going to be able to deal with it?  Because we really do need to find something that’ll work with the relays.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, though it was sulky.  He was giving the mall a look he normally reserved for attacking robeasts.

Brows furrowed, Hunk tilted his head at Shiro.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Shiro hates shopping,” Keith informed them, bone dry.

“Seriously?  Shopping is fun, Shiro.”  Lance gestured up at the floors of stores.  “Look how much stuff there is!  We get to browse around and have fun.”

Shiro shuddered delicately.  “It’s a bother.”  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he glanced around, the tilt of his head and slight curve of his shoulder downright teenage looking.  “Malls are the worst.”

Giving him a final look, Pidge shrugged.  “Okay, well, the sooner we find this, the sooner you don’t have to deal with one.  I call second floor.”

“Fifth!  I want the top!” Lance raised his hand into the air like a kid in class.  “And this time no one piss off the mall cop?  Kaltenecker is enough, we don’t need two cows.”

“I’ll take third, then.  Shiro, you good with fourth?”  Keith eyed Shiro, who had frozen at Lance’s comment.

Blinking, Shiro nodded.  “Uh- oh, yeah.  That’s fine.  Fourth.  Got it.”  Shiro looked up, and his gaze landed on the camera.  “I’m good.”

The others shared another baffled look, but they slowly broke away to their own tasks.  After all, how much trouble could Shiro get into?

One infuriated mall cop, a destroyed fire alarm system, a pack of alien cigarettes (unsmoked), thousands of credits worth of water damage and a four story escalator ride later, they had their answer.


	3. Shiro's a nerd, pass it on

anonymous asked:

PROMPT: The team finds out exactly how much of a nerd Shiro is. Bonus if you can include Matt.

Did you mean: Spectrum Verse?

But…

* * *

“Shiro!” Matt yelled out, holding a bag over his head.  He trotted over, grinning like he’d been personally handed the key to the universe.  “Check out what I got!”

“Volume control?” Shiro shot back, before he could help himself.  Matt was shouting loud enough that every eye in the trading bay was drifting toward them.  

Next to him, Pidge snorted.  “No way.  He’d never voluntarily buy that.”

Rather than reply to her, Matt just stuck out his tongue, then shoved the bag into Shiro’s chest.  “Remember that promise I made?”

Shiro eyed him, carefully opening the bag.  “You’re going to have to be more specific.  This morning you swore you’d marry me if I gave you the last of the space eggs.”

“And you didn’t, so I’m off the hook,” Matt replied cheerfully.  “Nah, I meant on the Kerberos trip.  One week off?”

Freezing, Shiro stared at Matt, who beamed back, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  His stomach sank as he reached inside and pulled out a bottle of what was no doubt alcohol.  “No.  Absolutely not.”

But Hunk’s curiosity was peeked, and he looked up from his own purchase (some small blinking device who’s possible purpose Shiro couldn’t begin to divine).  “What promise?”

“I said I’d get him drunk again,” Matt reported, before Shiro could speak up and stop him.

Lance’s head whipped around like he was trying to break his own neck.  “What?  Drunk _again?_   On the Kerberos mission!  Shiro, you _dog.”_

That finally broke Matt’s grin, and he huffed.  “Please.  Lt. No-My-Spine-Does-Not-Unbend here wasn’t gunna bring anything.  He was terrified he’d sneeze too loudly and be taken off the mission.  Dad brought it.”

Mouth falling open, Pidge turned to stare at Sam, who only raised his brows back.  “You brought alcohol with you to _Kerberos?”_

“Just a little.  Enough for a couple of drinks either, for when we were nearly there.”  Sam smiled at Pidge’s look.  “It was a very long six months.  And a good evening.”

Keith eyed Shiro.  “So what? Who cares if you guys brought a drink for one night.”  Then he paused, head slowly tilting.  “What did you do?”

Clapping his hands together gleefully, Matt sighed dramatically.  “It was the best night of my life.  Two-drinks-in Shiro is my favorite.  He _talks._   It’s amazing.”

“Okay, enough,” Shiro shot back, glaring at Matt.  He shoved the bottle back into the bag and tried to hand it back, but Matt crossed his arms instead, eyes bright with mischief.  “If everyone’s done, can we head back-”

“What’d Shiro do?” Hunk asked, eyes bright.

Shiro’s mouth fell open.  “Hunk!”

He only shrugged back.  “I wanna know, it sounds funny.”

Lance nodded.  “Seconded.”

“Thirded,” Pidge added.

Snorting, Keith rolled his eyes.  “I don’t have to fourth, Matt’s gunna tell us if we wanna know or not.”

Matt beamed.  “Absolutely right!  I wanna see if Shiro can still do the entire Picard monologue from ‘A Matter of Time’.”

Shiro bristled.  “Of course I can.”  Then he paused, realizing that was probably the wrong direction to go in.

“The time and choices one?” Pidge asked, brows up.  “That things, like, five minutes long.  And it’s about- oh, god, we can never let Shiro go back in time.  He’ll change stuff.  Shiro’s gunna cause a paradox.”

Lance snorted.  “Okay, first of all, it’s sad that you all know that off the top of your head.”

“Agreed,” Keith added.

Jerking his thumb over, Lance nodded.  “Even Keith agrees.  When we can agree on something, it has to be true.  Secondly, Shiro gets drunk and he quotes _Star Trek?_ Lame.”

“And he recalculated his thesis on the top of his head,” Matt added.  “That one was actually pretty impressive.”

Hunk considered Shiro.  “Sorry, Shiro, I’m with Lance on this one.  That’s a pretty sad way to spend being drunk.”

“What else were we going to do?” Shiro replied, shoulders rising defensively.  “We were stuck in the  _Daedalus._ And that wasn’t all.”  He paused, lips pulling down.  “I guess doing magic tricks while drunk isn’t better.”

“No,” Pidge agreed.  “That’s what made Matt so excited?  This is pathetic, honestly.”

Sam nodded and plucked the bag out of Shiro’s hands.  “It was.  And I was stuck in a ship with them.  Which means I’m taking this.  I’ve earned it.”

“Daaaad,” Matt whined.  “No, give it.  I bought it.”

Sam considered him, then tilted his head at Shiro.  “Takashi, son, would you help me out and hold this over Matt’s reach?”

Perking, Shiro took it and held it up, grinning at Matt’s furious glare.  “Anytime.”

“How about we get more and everyone gets drunk and is better at it than Shiro,” Lance offered.  At Shiro’s flat expression, he rolled his eyes.  “C’mon, we fly giant robots into war.  We should be allowed to drink.”

“Not an argument I’m having with you,” Shiro told him.  “And screw you all, you make fun of me and then think I’ll let you drink?”

Lance inclined his head.  “Fair.”

“ _And_  my thesis was beautiful.  Same thing that got me onto the Kerberos mission in the first place.  I calculated chained gravity assists.  You can all talk shit when you do that.”

Hunk and Pidge shared a glance.  “Like, blanket permission?” Pidge questioned carefully.

Shiro sighed and shook his head.  “How about we head back to the castle, if we’re done.”

“One moment,” Sam replied, heading off the way Matt had came.  “I have something to get first.”

“You do?  What- wait, no.  Sam!”  Shiro groaned and dropped his arm.  Immediately, Matt snatched the bottle back and pulled away.  “You know what?  I give up.”

Keith patted his shoulder sarcastically.  “You’ll live.  We already knew you were a dork.”

“Maybe if you were cooler this wouldn’t be a problem,” Lance offered.

Scrubbing over his face, Shiro started to plan the next day’s training.

He’d have his revenge.  And maybe a drink.  Not two, because screw Matt’s plans, but a drink.

***

That evening, they discovered that one drink of whatever hell alcohol Matt had purchased was about the alcohol content of several shots in a row.

And, yes, Shiro could still do the damn monologue, _thank you very much._


	4. Shiro faints

anonymous asked:

writing prompt: shiro fainting because he stood up too fast

The briefing had been going on forever.

That was understandable. Necessary, even. This mission had been complex, with more moving parts than Shiro had been comfortable relying on. Somehow, they’d managed to pull it off without too many problems. The Red Lion was going to need some downtime to repair and Hunk was probably going to have a real shiner tomorrow, but it had gone well. For once.

Pidge explained her part as quickly as she could, which wasn’t all that quick. There had been hacking, infiltrating, information gathering, spying - all the stuff she enjoyed doing on missions, but right now she didn’t want to talk about it, for once. She wanted to go face plant on the nearest flat surface. And she wasn’t the only one. They were all visibly flagging, and even Shiro’s attention was wavering.

Finally, Allura nodded to them all. “I think that’s all we need to know for now. Coran and I will get to work on plotting our next course. You’re free to go.”

Lance let out a thankful groan and flopped forward, head on the table. “Good. I think I’ve been seeing double since the firefight. My eyes will never uncross.”

Only her exhaustion kept Pidge from remarking that it might be an improvement. Honestly, Lance needed to stop making it so damn easy.

Hunk patted him soothingly on the back. “You’ll bounce back. After we all sleep for a year.”

“Two,” Keith disagreed. He’d rested his chin on his palm, and his eyes were closed, looking for all the world like he was to nod off right there.

Shiro snorted, but he didn’t disagree. “We’ll all feel better tomorrow. Let’s-” he pushed himself up, blinking quickly like he’d been surprised by something.

Then he slumped over and collapsed into a heap.

“Shiro!” Allura called, racing over and kneeling down next to him. “Was he injured?”

“No, I would have seen,” Keith insisted, suddenly wide awake as he stood up. “He was fine, there weren’t that many. Unless he-”

Groaning, Shiro opened his eyes and slowly sat up. “Wha…?”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?” Pidge demanded, scowling over the edge of the table. “What happened?”

Shiro stared at her, open and confused. “I’m not. I just got dizzy. Then I-” His brow furrowed and he looked down. “Well. I’m not going to live this down.”

“Let’s make sure you’re not dying first, then we’ll tease,” Lance decided.

Moving over, Hunk pressed his thumb to Shiro’s cheek, then made a low noise. “Is your mouth dry?”

Shiro nodded slowly. “Yes. How did you-” He paused, then went pink. “Oh.”

“Dehydration,” Hunk pronounced, tone appropriately dry. “When was the last time you drank some water?”

Looking away, the expression decidedly shifty, Shiro shrugged. “Time is an illusion.”

“Yeah, thought so. You think you can get up this time? Slower.”

Allura stepped back while Shiro climbed to his feet. “Yes. I’m fine, honestly. Just a moment. Barely even bruised myself on the way down.” He eyed Keith, who was still hovering like he was going to physically fight off the dehydration. “Sorry about that. I’ll make sure to get something to drink before bed.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lance spread his arms. “Take it in, baby.” When everyone stared at him in confusion, he dropped his arms and coughed. “I’m a, you know, a tall glass of water. And the blue paladin. So…”

“I thought it was funny,” Hunk told him loyally.

Lance beamed back. “Thanks, man.” He popped to his feet. “Want me to get you one of the little water pouch things?”

“You don’t have to-” Shiro paused, then nodded. “Actually, yes, please?”

Snapping off a salute, Lance trudged off. He still looked exhausted, but the fact that he could still move like that made Pidge wince. How’d he have that kind of energy? Eugh. Standing up properly, she moved to Shiro’s other side. “You need help getting to your room?”

“No. I appreciate the help, but I’m fine. Actually, I’m going to meet Lance in the kitchen. It’s closer to the rooms anyway. Thank you, though.” Shiro offered them a smile, and other than the obvious exhaustion, he really did seem fine.

Allura patted him on the shoulder, then held her hand out on the table for the nice to climb aboard. “We’ll discuss more in the morning, then. Try not to have this happen again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Shiro replied flatly, but his lips quirked up.

Keith sighed. “I’d be worried if you didn’t always do this.” Shiro just shrugged in response, smirk growing into a grin. “Alright, kitchen.”

“I don’t need the help, I can- woah, pushing, that’s not necessary.”

Watching with open amusement, Hunk followed behind as Keith and Pidge half-dragged Shiro along with them. “I’d say let us help. There’s less chance of us making fun of you forever for fainting if you do.”

Shiro groaned dramatically, but his smile didn’t waver, and he rested his arm along Pidge’s shoulders.

(They gave him shit anyway. Because they were a family, and that’s what families do.)


	5. Shiro's Pavlov Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn AO3
> 
> Works this time : /

 Niffty24 asked:

Fun prompt: Shiro having a pavol's bell reaction to an object paladins come across

 

There’s the NSFW fun not-sad version of this that’ll come later (hah), but for now have the sad one instead.

* * *

“What even is this thing, do you think?” Lance asked, twirling what looked like an old-fashioned collapsible presentation pointer in his fingers.  In spun in a flickering circle, catching the light of the castle with each cycle.

Pidge glanced up and pushed her glasses farther up on her nose.  “Who knows?  It might be part of something else.  This all seems like junk.”

The Galra station had been an interesting place to hit, Keith thought.  Maybe not the mission itself, which had been pretty annoying, but for the results.  They had managed to get out with Green near full of anything Pidge and Hunk had been able to grab and run with, as many times as they could make the back and forth while Shiro, Keith and Lance kept the guards and available ships from responding.

So now they had a bunch of stuff.  Tons of stuff.  And no context for what any of it was supposed to do.

Turning over one of the boxes, Hunk made a face as a legion of combs clattered onto the floor.  “Makes sense, but I’m still disappointed.  This was supposed to be one of the main storage areas.  I feel like we just raided someone’s junk drawer.”

“Hey, if you went through any of our storage areas, you’d find a bunch of crap too,” Keith replied, shrugging.  “It was always luck of the draw.  And Pidge got all that data.  Still a win.”

Lance eyed him, pointing his toy at Keith.  Shiro jolted and stepped out of the way, then looked surprised at himself.  Before Keith could ask, Lance spoke.  “What’s with you?  You’re being all optimistic.”

“What?  I’m only allowed to hate everything?”

“Yes!” Lance shot back, jerking the metal stick again.  It twanged like the antenna of a car with an ancient radio. Pausing, he stared at it, brow furrowed.  “Didn’t know it did that.”  Forgetting about the argument, he snapped it again, this time harder.

The entire thing seemed to snap into place.  Then it crackled with energy, sparking with electricity.

Immediately after, there was a dull thump.

Following the second noise, Keith saw Shiro kneeling, head bowed as if to protect it, and arms crossed behind his back.  It was a defensive but vulnerable pose, his back on open display but curled around his stomach and chest, keeping them safe.

There was a second of heavy silence, as everyone recognized what the instant reaction and submissive posture had to mean.

Shiro’s head came up, expression confused, then horrified.  He stood, sudden and jerky, and took a step back from them.  “I-”  He straightened, shoulders squaring, like he was going to try and explain it, but then he faltered.

Making a soft, pained noise, Lance threw the pointer in the other direction.  It hit one of the boxes and clattered to the floor.  “Shiro, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know-”

“No one knew.  I didn’t know,” Shiro replied instantly, but he didn’t meet Lance’s eyes.  “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.  But I can’t-”  He reached out, hand shaking, and gave Lance a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

Then he turned and ran.

Staring after him, Lance turned and faced them all, eyes still wide and devastated.  “I really didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, Lance,” Hunk replied soothingly.  “We know.  Shiro knows too.  He’s probably embarrassed.”

Humiliated was probably the better word, if they were being honest.

After that, digging through the Galra junk closet didn’t seem nearly as fun.  Hunk escorted a still shaky Lance out to go relax, and Pidge eyed them, then walked over to where the electric pointer had landed.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked.  “If you’re going to destroy it, I want to help.”  His hands clenched at his side, aching with the desire to hurt _something_  that had hurt Shiro that way.

Pidge shook her head.  “No.  Not yet, anyway.  Maybe we’ll throw it out an airlock, just for you.  But I was going to try something else first.”

Brows raising, Keith tilted his head at Pidge.  In response, she gestured for him to follow.

***

Later, they tracked Shiro down in the training room.  Because of course that’s where he was.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked, once Shiro had safely disabled the training bot.

Barely sparing them a glance, Shiro shrugged.  “Fine.  I talked to Lance, so hopefully he’s feeling better.”

“Good, but not why we’re here.”  Pidge held up a tiny remote in her hands.  “This is.  Because, I’m gunna take a stab in the dark here and say you’re training because you’re afraid of what could happen on a mission.”

Shiro eyed them both, the hunch of his shoulders distinctly defensive.  “That is usually the point of training, yes.”

“You know what we mean,” Keith replied.  “We want to help.  Hopefully in a way that won’t hurt you.”

That didn’t change Shiro’s damn near surly expression at all.  “I’m fine, like I told you.  It’s not going to be a problem.”

Pidge tilted her head.  “We think that, but you don’t.”  Shiro froze.  “The sound was the problem, right?  You didn’t react that way to the sight of the thing.  So, I recorded it.  Now it’s on this.”  She held up the remote again.  “That way you can listen to it without being in danger, and get used to the noise, so you won’t be surprised by it anymore.  Extinction of a conditioned trigger.”

Inch by slow inch, Shiro glanced up and seemed to consider them more seriously.  “Just the noise?”

“Just that.  The real one is… safe.”  Keith figured they’d let Shiro decide what to do with it later.  For now, he’d rather no one mess with it anyway.  The electricity had sounded painful.  “You can even put Pidge’s headphones into that thing, if you don’t want us to hear it too.  But-” he frowned at Shiro, darkly serious.  “We thought it’d be better if you did it with the group.  That way if something sets you off you won’t be alone for it.”

Shiro froze.  “I’ll be fine. I am fine.  I can listen to it on my own.”

Considering him, Pidge tilted her head.  “Well, if you really don’t want to, that’s fine.  But it’ll be easier to break the association if there’s other stimuli.  And I think it’d make us feel better to know we can help.  Especially Lance.”  Well, that was fighting dirty.  But Keith couldn’t bring himself to argue, not when it made Shiro pause.  “If it’s really against what you want, fine, but it’ll help us out.”

Considering, Shiro held out his hand for the remote, which Pidge handed over without so much as a blink.  “I’ll think about it,” he replied carefully.  “For now, I need to wash up.”

Which meant he at least felt like he had a better strategy than training and freaking himself out.  Keith counted that as a success.

 

That evening, Shiro joined their evening movie watching session, curled in slightly like a dog with its tail between its legs.  But he did climb onto the couch with them, even if he tucked himself into the corner like he’d infect them if he came to close.

As much as Keith wanted to reach out to him, it was better to let Shiro make moves at his own pace.  He did usually have a plan, after all.

Before the end of the night, Shiro had crept slowly closer, part of the group even if he occasionally suddenly flinched and nearly curled up on himself.

So when Shiro quietly offered Lance the remote, Keith was glad he’d left it in his hands.  Shiro knew what he doing, after all, and the misty-eyed look Lance shot him back spoke volumes.

They had it under control.  As much as they could.  And for today, that was enough.


	6. Matt sees Shiro's Flirting (Shatt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused, check out the first chapter of Grace is Wasted
> 
> Warning: Contains Shatt

Glitter-lisp asked:

 

I don't know why but I'm just picturing how Shiro seducing the alien would have gone differently if Matt had been there. I mean, it probably would have gone about the same, except that Matt just. Needs a minute. He's gotta sit down. Lie down. Bury himself. Maybe cry a little. Maybe borrow some of Keith's music as he rethinks everything he thought he knew about himself and his ability to function as a human being when he can see Shiro's chest and abs and arms and FUCK.

 

 

Lance whooped, loudly enough that Matt nearly jumped out of his chair.

Covering the ear closest to him, Keith scowled.  “Ow.  You want to get any louder?”

“Is that a dare, Mullet?”

Hunk shoved an arm between them, rolling his eyes.  “Nope. We are not getting in a fight here.  That’s, like, a level of skeevy I don’t want to touch.  Play nice or go to separate corners, I don’t care which.”

Which was fair.  It was bad the best place to watch their target was a strip club.  That was strange, even if Matt didn’t find any of the dances on stage very biologically stimulating.  Nothing about that slug thing was terribly inspiring, no many scales fell off their back.

Space was weird.  But Matt already knew that.

Resting her chin on her palm, Katie eyed Lance.  “What’s got you so excited, anyway?”

Lance beamed again, forgetting the brewing fight, and gestured over.  “Shiro’s heading over.  Taking bets this time.  Think it’ll work again?”

Following Lance’s gesture, Matt spotted Shiro and froze.

First of all, skin.  Matt was not used to seeing Shiro’s skin.  At all.  But apparently for whatever it was he was planning, he’d taken off his undershirt and left his vest hanging open.

Second of all, Shiro had followed their target onto the dance floor, and was fitting in accordingly.

Skin and dancing that involved a whole lot of stomach movements.  Which meant abs.  Oh and arms.  And chest.  And oh god skin.  At this distance, the scars were barely noticeable, but Matt doubted he’d have really cared even if Shiro was doing that right in front of him and-

Oh god oh god bad thoughts.

Matt scooted closer to their table and tried to tear his eyes away from Shiro.

It didn’t work.

“No way, have you see the performers?  I don’t think anyone who comes here is looking for bipeds,” Hunk answered, and to Matt it sounded like he was talking from far away.  

Keith shrugged.  “We’ve only seen a couple.  Maybe we just had bad luck.”

“And you don’t know, maybe they’ve got varied tastes,” Pidge drawled.  “Some point will take whatever they can get.”

“You trying to say something to me, Gremlin?”

“Just that beggar’s can’t be choosers.”

There was a nudge to his side, and Matt finally looked away from Shiro’s hips (oh god how did he know how to _roll_  like that?) to look over at Keith.  “What?”

“You’re staring,” Keith replied flatly.  “Stop it.  It’s better if they can’t tell we’re all a group.”

Swallowing, because Matt’s mouth was suddenly very full of saliva, he snorted.  “I don’t think anyone will figure that out just from me looking.”

“Yeah, just looks like Matt’s got a big ole’ crush,” Lance replied.  “Which is true anyway.  But I doubt he’s the only one staring, if anyone else here is into the human form.”

Cheeks heating, Matt sputtered.  “I do not- crush?  Excuse you!  What am I, five?”

“Crushes aren’t just for kids,” Hunk replied carefully, brows up.  “Plenty of grown people have them.  Say, someone who was about graduation age.”

Matt scowled back.  “It’s not- don’t try and… _shut up.”_

“Good one,” Katie drawled.  “You really showed up.”  Over her shoulder, Hunk frowned, like Matt had missed the point entirely.

Well, screw that.  There was no point.

“I’m fine,” Matt shot back.  “And it doesn’t matter.  I was just distracted for a moment.  And keeping an eye on him.  What’s he even do-” Matt glanced back over, his eyes almost instantly snapping to Shiro in the crowd.

Who was very, very close to the target.  And dancing.   _Very close._   

“Flirting,” Keith replied, voice so serious around the word that it should have been funny.  “He tried it before, in a bar when we had a client who probably wasn’t really involved with what was going on.  It worked pretty well, so he was going to try it again here.”

Flirting.  With the target.

If you could call flirting the way Shiro was nearly chest to chest with the alien a solid for taller than him, cheeks flush and neck exposed.  As the beat picked up, he turned around, and the alien’s long hands found Shiro’s hips.

Matt only realized he was grinding his teeth when it felt like something was about to chip.

It wasn’t even like Matt was the jealous type.  He’d never been bothered, not really.  The few flings he’d had were no strings attached, and he’d always hated the type of person who didn’t want their significant other to spend time with other people.  What kind of asshole was that controlling?

Except right now Matt would really, really love to try and punch that alien’s spiny fucking face.  Yes, it’d hurt, but they’d at least get their claws off of Shiro, and Shiro wouldn’t be _grinding back_  and-

“Holy shit, Matt, breathe,” Lance murmured, sounding honestly concerned.  “You’re going to burst a blood vessel, here.”

Taking a deep breath, Matt yanked his gaze away again.  It didn’t erase the arch of Shiro’s back or the way his bangs stuck to his forehead from his mind.  Or the _hands_  on him.

When he managed to look up, the other four were staring at him like they’d never seen him before.

“Okay, I believe you about the crush thing,” Hunk murmured.

Keith actually looked worried when he glanced over Matt.  “Do you need air?  One of us can go out with you-”

“I’m fine,” Matt replied, nearly barking it.  “I’m not going anywhere until Shiro’s back.”

“I don’t think it’s gunna be long,” Katie murmured, glancing back over.  Matt started to follow the look, but then yanked his eyes back down before he could spot Shiro again.  “He looks like he’s finishing up.”

The mental image that Matt’s head provided was probably very different from the reality.  That didn’t stop him from digging his fingernails into the table top.

A few minutes later, a hand settled on his shoulder, and Matt jolted.  “Okay, we can head out,” Shiro said, so calm and collected and _Shiro_ , despite the fact that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt under his vest.  And, yeah, the scars did not detract.  Goddamn Matt’s fucking life.  “You okay?”

It took Matt a moment to realize Shiro was talking to him.  “Oh.  Yeah.  I’m good.  Little overheated.  Let’s just go.”

Shiro frowned, but he nodded.  “Alright.  Let’s get some water into you.  In the castle, where we know it’s safe.  Ready, everyone?”

“I refuse to count this as my first strip club,” Lance declared, standing up.  “This wasn’t fun at all.  We’re finding a club with strippers that have legs and arms.”

Keith snorted.  “I’m surprised this is your first.”

“Goddamn, is this pick on Lance day?”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro reached over and squeezed Lance’s shoulder.  He had to step away from Matt to do it, and without the contact he felt colder.  “No, it’s not.  It is, however, Lance stops talking about future strip club visits in front of his unit commander day.”

Lance rolled his eyes as they all headed out.  “Nope, you don’t get to pretend to be Commander Straight Laced when we just watched you practically grinding on a target.  I can talk about whatever I want after that.”  But he nudged Shiro with his elbow.  “Can it be Dance Party Evening Day instead?  Not for training, just for fun.  Show the aliens our sweet homegrown moves.”

Rather than object, Katie nodded.  Matt eyed her suspiciously.  “That’d be good.  It’d be fun to do something other than watch movies tonight.  It’s been a lot of sitting.”

“I want to dance!” Hunk added, just a hint too cheerfully, and even Keith gave a small, clearly reluctant nod.  “Sounds good to me.”

Shiro looked between them all, brow furrowed as they boarded the Green Lion.  “Alright, if we finish up before it’s too late, we can do that.”

The resulting grins didn’t make Matt feel very comfortable.  But he couldn’t make his tongue work when Shiro’s arms were out and his chest was showing and yeah, no, Matt was going to be sitting with his bag in his lap the ride back.

Turning to Matt, Shiro tilted his head.  “You still want to learn?”

What Shiro’s chest tasted like?  Yes, please.  Matt swallowed hard, then managed to meet Shiro’s eyes.  Really, one of these days Matt was going to get him a shirt that said ‘my eyes are up here’.  “Learn what?”

“How to do something other than the White Suburban Dad Shuffle,” Shiro replied, grinning.  “Remember that?”

Oh, god.  Right.  Matt had known Shiro could dance even back then, but not that he could dance like _that_.  

Still, Matt wasn’t going to turn down an invitation to hold onto Shiro.  “Sounds good.”

Behind Shiro, he saw three smug smiles and set of rolled eyes.

***

Shiro did end up giving Matt dance lessons, a few basic steps as they music played in their little party.

But later that night, Shiro showed him the kind of dance he’d shown off at the strip joint.

It had ended with a lot more satisfaction to both of them.


	7. Shiro's humor backfires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up of sorts to Giggle at a Funeral

anonymous asked:

I'm kinda expecting Shiro's humor to backfire on him. Like it's all fun and games until you're on the other end of things, listening to one of your own try to comfort you with black humor in what may be their last moments. Bonus thought: it's Keith throwing back the 'if I don't make it' line because he thinks it's hilarious and clever.

“Keith.  Keith, buddy, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?  C’mon, you can do it, just open up.”  


Keith’s brows twitched, and there was a long moment where it looked like he’d passed out again.  Then his eyes opened.  “Hey.  Ow.”

Cracking a smile, Shiro bent over Keith, like he was trying to physically shield him from danger.  Not that there was anything to protect him from.  When Keith had been hit, Shiro had pulled him into the Black Lion until the rest of the team could arrive, and he was directing so much energy into the shields that Shiro wasn’t sure they could have moved if they needed to.

Maybe it was a bad strategy, but Shiro couldn’t help it.  Everything in him needed to keep Keith safe, no matter what that meant.  When the rest arrived, he’d go back to being reasonable.  Right now, he was going to help Keith.

“Yeah, I bet.  We’re gunna get you patched up now, okay?  I found the med kits, and you’re gunna have to remind me to kick Coran’s ass later, okay?  Because it was in the stupidest drawer with no labels, and at least one Altean needs to pay for this terrible design.  So remind me.”  


Shiro was babbling as he cracked open the med kit, and used the attached, specialty blade to cut through Keith’s undersuit.  The wound underneath was ugly, and Shiro could only hope that when they got him to a pod - _and they would -_ that Keith wouldn’t scar.

Letting out a choked noise, Keith closed his eyes.  Shiro jolted back, afraid he’d hurt him, but then he noticed the smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

Keith was laughing.  Or trying to, while he still had a blaster hole in his side.

“I’ll remind you in a minute.  Can’t promise anything else.”  


Freezing, Shiro’s eyes tracked up, and he felt himself going pale.  “No, Keith, you’re going to be fine.  We’re just patching you up right now, don’t worry about it.”

They’d been given a crash course in Altean field medicine, so Shiro at least had a basic knowledge of what each of these bottles were supposed to be.  He dabbed the first one on the wound, wincing at both the smell and Keith’s soft noise of pain, then started on the small strips that acted almost like staples.  As he was finishing up, Keith’s hand rested on top of his.

Glancing up, Shiro took in Keith’s exhausted, pained expression.  Noticed the direct focus of his gaze, how serious he looked.

Tears started to build in his own eyes, and he swallowed against it.  “You need something?  Anything, just tell me.”

“Shiro,” Keith let out, and it was rough croak.  “If I don’t make it out of here alive-”  


Shiro’s heart clenched, and he gripped Keith’s hand back, ready to swear whatever he wanted. 

“I want you to keep leading Voltron.”  


Freezing, Shiro stared at him.

Keith cracked a shaky grin back.

Goddamn.  Shiro hadn’t known how much that _hurt._   

Finishing up with the wound, Shiro covered it with a bandage and then shifted closer, pressing his helmet to Keith’s.  “You’re ridiculous.”

“What?  Thought I’d try being funny.  You seem to enj-” Keith paused, coughing hard and then groaning.  “Enjoy it.”  


Cupping either side of Keith’s neck, Shiro slammed his eyes shut.  “You’re hilarious.  And now you need to get to the pod and keep making jokes.  The rest of the team won’t believe me otherwise.”

Keith grinned.  “That’s the real joke.”

“Such a little shit.”  Shiro took a deep breath, then pulled back when Keith didn’t reply.  His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.  


For now.

Clutching at Keith’s helmet, Shiro sent another burst of energy to the Black Lion’s shield, and felt a concerned rumble in response.  He ignored it.

Nothing mattered except getting Keith home alive.

***

Pausing at Keith’s door, Shiro hesitated.  Maybe he was still asleep, and he shouldn’t be disturbed while he was resting.  Even after a few days in the pod, Keith had been obviously exhausted, and a day in bed might not be enough.

But Shiro could have come up with excuses forever, if he let himself.  So instead he knocked.

After a moment, the door slid open, and Shiro could see Keith sitting up in bed, a pad on his lap. “Hey,” he greeted, still rough but awake.  There was color to his cheeks again, and the bags under his eyes had mostly faded.

Something in Shiro finally relaxed.

“Good afternoon,” Shiro greeted.  He sat down on Keith’s desk chair, running his eyes over him for any sign of injury.  “How are you feeling?”  


Snorting, Keith set aside the pad.  “Like I got shot, but like I got shot last month instead of this week.  It’s an improvement.”

Shiro nodded slowly.  “Good.  That you’re feeling better, at least.  I’d better not see you so much as looking at the training room until the end of the week.”

Keith gave a dry salute, and the move thankfully didn’t make him flinch.  “Yes, sir.”

“For now… I should apologize.”  


Staring back, Keith dropped his hand and scowled.  “If this is some ‘I should have protected you’ bullshit, let it die now.”

Shiro huffed.  “No.  Though I should have anyway.  I meant-”  He winced.  “I probably haven’t been very… empathetic in the past, during times when my life was in danger.  It wanted to apologize for that.  I didn’t realize the kind of impact it had.”

For a moment, Keith seemed to have no idea what Shiro was on about.  Then it visibly clicked.  “Oh, your awful jokes?  Yeah, wasn’t as much fun from the other side, was it?”  When Shiro flinched, he sighed.  “You seriously never realized they might not be funny to everyone?”

“I did,” Shiro replied carefully.  “Not how much.  And it-” he winced yet again, but carried on, because he owed Keith the truth.  “Well, I always thought I wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout after.”  


Keith stared.  “Huh.  Somehow I didn’t expect the selfish answer.”  All Shiro could do was shrug, because it was.  “Alright, apology accepted.  Especially if you don’t do it anymore.  It’s one thing when it’s ridiculous, like when we had to walk back to the Garrison.  Those are shitty, but they’re normal shitty.  Not when you’re actually bleeding out, okay?”

“I won’t,” Shiro promised.  


Nodding, Keith settled back.  “Good.  Was that what you needed me for?”

Shiro sighed.  “Yeah.  If you need me to go-”

For a moment, Keith considered, then he shook his head.  “I can’t say I’ll stay awake, but you’re free to stay, if you find some way to entertain yourself.”  It was a flat offer, nearly inflection-less, but his eyes were sharp as they looked Shiro over.

He probably thought Shiro needed to see him right now.

He wasn’t wrong.  

“I’ll be quiet,” Shiro promised softly, smiling.  Keith offered a small one back, then settled back comfortably.  


Shiro stayed until Keith’s breathing evened out.  Then he stayed after, too, just watching Keith’s chest rise and fall.

He’d try and do better.  For his team.


	8. Keith discovers Shiro's sense of humor

emi010 asked:

Idea for Light on the Dark Side of Me: A look at all the times Shiro came at Keith with his dark humor so hard and so many times that it pisses Keith off as much as it does in Giggle At A Funeral. (Everyone else is like 'Shiro! Please stop talking like that! Why are you saying these things?!' and Keith is just like 'SHIRO WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS FUCKING LIKE THIS, YOU BETTER SHUT YOUR BITCH MOUTH -RIGHT NOW- OR SO HELP ME-' and I feel like there must be some stories there.)

 

“So,” Shiro said, disgustingly chirpy.  “This was way easier to do on concrete than sand.  This engine is definitely not doing anything until we clean it out.”

Groaning, Keith glanced around them.  Their visibility was awful in the near pitch darkness of the hour.  But even if it had been noon, Keith wouldn’t have been able to see anything but sand in all directions.  They were miles out, a necessity of avoiding the occasional Garrison patrol that would have had a lot of questions for two Cadets out at 2 AM.  With a speeder bike.  One they hadn’t officially rented out.  So Shiro could show him how to ride dunes like a water ski.

This plan hadn’t been well thought out.

And now they were stuck out here.  

They had flares, and worse came to worse they could probably call someone, but Keith already had more than one black mark on his record, and it would be the end of Shiro’s shiny reputation - assuming he wasn’t expelled outright for dragging out an underclassman at ass-o-clock.

Keith couldn’t do that to Shiro.  But they might not have a choice.

“So, what now?” Keith asked.  He glared at the bike Shiro was still fiddling with like it was personally at fault for failing.  Which it was.

Holding up one hand, Shiro stood up, and then kicked the bike _hard._   It shuddered, and a rain of sand came pouring out.  Then, with a horrible grinding noise, the fans on bottom started.  They were definitely struggling, and Keith wouldn’t trust it with any kind of weight, but it slowly floated a struggling inch off the sand.

Well.  They couldn’t ride it, but at least they could bring it with them, now.

“Now we walk,” Shiro replied, just as easy.  He tapped on the compass embedded into the handlebars. 

The Garrison was on the northern most point of the desert.  

Miles away.

Keith wasn’t against the plan, but it he was surprised Shiro was for it.  Most people he’d known would have given up right here and taken the consequences.  He’d figured Shiro - teacher’s pet, Garrison Golden Boy Shiro - would try and use his sway to save at least himself.  After all, Keith had a reputation as a trouble maker.  Not that he would, but… If Shiro said he’d chased Keith down to try and stop him, everyone would believe him.

But apparently not.  Because Shiro was still staring him, head tilted as if he wasn’t sure what Keith was waiting for.

Well, alright then.  It was still only about 1 AM, so they had five hours to make it 8 miles through the desert.  For a pair of fit cadets, that shouldn’t be a problem.

So Keith nodded and took the other side of the handle, helping Shiro steer it as they walked.  “So let’s walk.”

***

For about an hour, they continued in companionable silence, most of their conversations based around figuring out obstacles.

But then Shiro started to speak.  “We should have a plan.”

“For when we get back?” Keith asked.  “I figure the plan is ‘don’t get caught, clean off the bike and run.’”

Shiro glanced over at him, the white of his smile catching on what little light the moon shone down.  “No, I mean, a plan for who eats who first.”

Freezing, Keith stared at Shiro, who stumbled as he suddenly had to take on more of the bike’s weight.  “What?   _What?”_

“We’re in a desert,” Shiro explained, in the exact same tone he used when going over concepts from a textbook.  “Not very resource heavy, is it?  You have that knife, so you can make it quick.  You should kill me, but wait until dehydration is a problem, because otherwise you’ll loose too much liquid to evaporation.”

Oh god.  Shiro was _out of his skull._   And Keith was alone in the desert with him and that dangerous smile.  “We’re like five miles away.  Why would I kill you?”

“You’d be my Mercy Angel,” Shiro replied, so fucking cheerfully it made Keith want to duck behind the bike for safety.  “It’d be a relief to die, and my death would have meaning.”

When Shiro glanced at him again, he was still grinning like that, but where as a crinkle to the corner of his eyes, and Keith got it.  “You’re _joking?”_

That was when Shiro burst out into delighted cackles, and Keith decided he was still out with a maniac.  Probably just not one into murder-suicide.  “Yeah?  It’s funny.  C’mon, have a sense of humor.”

“No.  Not when you’re joking like that.  The hell, Shiro, I thought you were serious!”

“I am serious,” Shiro replied, still through his chuckles.  “If it turns out that way, you’d kill me more mercifully with that knife than I could do to you.  And it’d save more resources!  Less blood spill.”

Keith ground his teeth and started to push again, faster this time.  “Okay, double time, because I don’t want to have to keep listening to you.”

“Keith!” Shiro called after, scrambling to keep up with Keith’s sudden change of pace.  “It’s funny.  No one’s going to die today except for my self-esteem.”

Grinding his teeth, Keith sighed as Shiro reached across the speeder to ruffle his hair.  “It’s really not funny.  Can we get back to pushing, now?”

“Alright, fine.  I’ll remain unappreciated.”  Shiro didn’t seem actually bothered though.  “For the actual plan, yes, you run.  I’ll clean the bike out before someone tries to use it this morning.  No one will think twice about seeing me working on something at weird hours.”

Keith frowned at Shiro.  “That’ll take hours.  You’ll be lucky to get it done before wake-up call.”

Snorting, Shiro shrugged one shoulder.  “Like it’ll be my first all-nighter.  I’ll catch a nap at lunch and go to bed earlier.  But I have a reason to be there and you don’t.  Besides, it was my fault for not thinking that trick through.  I should be the one to fix it.”

“It’s not- you’re doing this as a favor.”  Keith frowned.  “Don’t get in trouble for me.  Or loose sleep.”

Shiro shot him a fond look.  “I won’t get in trouble and I stay up all the time anyway.  It’s no different than normal.  But if you want to make it even, you can do me a favor.  Once in a while I sneak out just to head into town and get stuff.  But my roommate’s nosy.  If I could leave a bag of my things in your room, it’d be easier.  That good?”

Unwinding, Keith nodded.  That was even.  He could work with that, and he appreciated Shiro giving him a way to stay out of his dept, even in such a small thing.  “Yeah.  That’s good.”

“Perfect.  Now c’mon, let’s go before I collapse and you have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“You collapse and and I’m leaving you for the coyotes.”

“See!  That’s how you play the game.  I knew you had it in you.”


	9. Shiro's Very Bad No Good Morning

anonymous asked:

Okay but Shiro getting up one morning after a series of nightmares, and he's kind of out of it/not really there over breakfast, and Hunk goes to take away his (semi-full) plate and his eyes snap open and he grabs Hunk's wrist just a little too tight and he /snarls./ And there's that split second where he and the paladins realize what just happened. Like every time they uncover another facet of his PTSD, they know more about what he went through with the Galra.

It had been a bad night.

A very bad night.

Shiro was exhausted.  He tried his best to bite it back, focusing on keeping his back straight and his shoulders up.

But his eyelids were heavy. 

Blink.

The chaos of breakfast, familiar and warm.  Hunk teasing Keith, pulling a reluctant smile from him.  Lance and Pidge trading playful elbows (Pidge’s less playful) as they fought for the last not-quite-pancake.  Allura and Coran plotting out the day’s work, the mice chattering as Allura hand fed them morsels.

Blink.

_The noise of the prisoners, brought out together and kept locked up, waiting for the arena battles.  Alien chatter, understood in practice but the echos of the chamber making them eerie and strange and unknown again.  The harsh whispers, drawing away from him, from the danger he represented.  Chitters of fears, low, nervous bluster._

_No one wanted to be locked in a room with The Champion.  They wanted to face him even less._

Blink.

Everyone had moved, in what felt like an instant.  Pidge had won their contest, already halfway done with her reward.  Lance was sulking to Coran, who only laughed, while Allura gestured fondly with her fork as she chimed in.  Keith murmured to Pidge, making her grin smugly and glance at Lance as Hunk started to get up.

Blink.

_A huge armored claw, like a crab mixed with a hand, pressed against Shiro’s chest, shoving him back.  He dug in his heels, resisting the move and staring down the alien in front of him.  Xe snapped at him, low and blunt.  Confident.  This was performative, a show: Xe wasn’t afraid of the Champion.  Another of xir four claws snapped down, going for Shiro’s food._

Blink.

A hand moved down, going for Shiro’s food.

He reacted in an instant, his right hand snapping around the wrist in a vice grip.  Flipping the knife in his other hand, he held it in a fist and pressed it against the flesh, an open threat.  Shiro’s lips drew back in a snarl that could only be called animal as he met his attacker’s eyes.

Hunk stared back, horrified and scared.

Blink.

Shiro dropped the knife and yanked himself back, near throwing himself against the arm of the chair.  “Hunk, I’m so sorry-”

“I’m sorry! I thought you were done, I was just cleaning up-”

Holding up his natural hand, Shiro shook his head.  “Don’t apologize.  You didn’t do anything you haven’t done a dozen times.  I wasn’t paying attention.”  He took a deep breath, then met Hunk’s eyes again.  “Is your wrist okay?”

Hunk pulled his hand back guiltily.  “It’s fine,” he insisted, voice strengthening.

Which meant it wasn’t.

Shit.   _Shit._   

“I’m sorry,” Shiro repeated, standing up.  “You sit down, I’ll take care of this. You shouldn’t be doing this anyway, since you cooked.”

For a moment, Hunk looked like he’d fight the order, but then he settled back down in his seat.  “It’s fine.  You didn’t hurt me.”

Shiro knew a lie when he heard one.

Standing up, Keith reached for a plate.  “I’ll help-”

“No!”  It came out a bark, and Keith froze at the tone.  Because apparently Shiro had _no control of himself_  today, and that meant he was going to hurt everyone around him.  “No, let me.”

Everyone’s eyes were on him as he hastily gathered enough plates to justify running out the room.  It was silent until he walked through the door to the kitchen, and then whispers broke out.

Dumping the plates in the sink with more force than was strictly necessary, Shiro bent over the counter and covered his head with his hands.

He needed to get himself _under fucking control._ There was no excuse for hurting Hunk.   None.  Especially with the Galra arm.  And _threatening_ him.

There was a knock on the door, and Shiro pulled himself up and snapped himself into proper posture before he even saw Coran standing in the frame.

“At ease, Number One,” Coran replied, voice easy but soft, nearly soothing.  Part of Shiro wanted to object to being talked to like a cornered dog but… well, when the collar fit.  “I’m just here to check in on you.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro insisted, and even managed to get the tone right.

But it was too obvious a lie, because Coran just shot him a quelling look.  He stepped over, picking up one of the plates and transferring it into the washer.  “You know, I once tried to punch King Alfor.”

It was such an unexpected through that Shiro froze, staring at Coran.  The idea of bone-deep-loyal Coran trying to punch out someone he so obviously cared about and admired was near unthinkable.  “Why?”

“He startled me,” Coran replied simply.  “It was a week after a battle against - well, a group that hadn’t existed for millennia now.  It was when the exhaustion had worn off, but the memories hadn’t.  He came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder, and I hit before I knew what I was doing.”  He let out a laugh.  “Didn’t managed to hit him, mind.  You paladins are a hard lot to strike.  Nearly did, though.  Shook me to the core, it did.”

Shiro nodded in perfect understanding.  He stepped forward carefully, taking one of the plates and helping Coran.  “What did you do?”

“Apologized and moved on.”  Coran glanced over at him, gaze all too sharp.  “In the moment it feels so huge.  It’s personal, that you tried to hurt someone you loved.  But in the end you can’t do more than apologize and work to prevent it in the future.  You won’t always.  It wasn’t the last time, and the poor soul wasn’t always as well trained as Alfor.  But you keep moving on, because stopping is letting them win.”

It was, probably purposefully, the right thing to say.  Shiro didn’t like to lose.  Never had and never would.  So he nodded slowly.  “Is everyone alright?”

“As much as they ever are,” Coran replied flatly, drawing a smile from Shiro, however reluctant.  “More worried about your reaction after.  Let’s try and give them a pleasant surprise, shall we?”

God, he was easily manipulated.  And Coran was proving he knew Shiro’s buttons far too well.  But he smiled and nodded, even if both were strained.  “Good plan.” Shiro hesitated, because Coran was, essentially, a higher ranked officer, and Shiro hated to ask for help.  But, well, pleasant surprises.  “Would you and Allura be willing to run them through their paces, today?  It’s a bit close to the surface today. I think I should try and spend this morning resting.”

Coran beamed at him like Shiro had personally offered him the crown goddamn jewels.  “Don’t you worry, we’ll wear them out for you.”

Okay, so Shiro may have accidentally thrown the others under the bus with this.

Well, he was already going to apologize to Hunk later, this just meant he’d have more to say.  And in this, Shiro wasn’t _too_  sorry anyway.

“Thank you,” Shiro replied simply.

Raising a hand, Coran paused, making sure Shiro could see it and duck back if he wanted to.  Then he ruffled Shiro’s bangs, the same way he tended to do to his team.  “Did I do that right?”

“Yes, you did it perfectly.”

Coran nodded.  “Good.  I like that gesture.  Now, we’ll finish up.  I know you wanted to, but honestly with how tired you look, you might drop more plates than you clean.”

Probably not, but a fair assessment anyway.  Shiro nodded.  “Alright.  Tell everyone I’ll talk to them after lunch.”

“Will do, Number One.”

Shiro nodded, then started for the door to the hallway.  “And Coran?  Thank you.  It means a lot.”

Glancing up, Coran nodded to him.  “Not a problem.  It helps to know it’s not just you, I know.”

It did.  And the fact that _Coran_  was punching _King Alfor_  was enough proof that it was involuntarily.  At least in that case.

“It does.”  With a last smile, Shiro headed back to his room.

Sleep was probably out of the question, but resting wasn’t.

And Shiro had help, which was the biggest relief he could think of.


	10. The team plays dodge ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can dodge a ball you can dodge a training bot

anonymous  asked:

ok but think of the shenanigans dancer/gymnast Shiro would get up to in a game of Dodgeball. 'SHIRO S TOP' 'that's not how this works.' 'QUIT BEING SO EXTRA' 'I don't know what you're talking about :3c'

 

“Can we stop introducing Allura to sports?” Lance called, hands on his knees as he panted.  “This is the worst one yet.  This is school yard torture.  I object.  Geneva Conventions.  This has to fit in there somewhere.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and patted Lance on the back.  “It’s not that bad, and- oh, heads up.”  Before he even finished the sentence, a bouncy ball beaned Lance on the shoulder with a _twang._

From the other side of the room, Pidge raised her arms triumphantly.  “Out!”

“I was resting!”  Lance objected, mouth falling open.  “You little cheater!”

Pidge only shrugged, picking up the ball as it rolled back over the line.  “You didn’t call time out.”

“It was kind of implied,” Hunk offered, and Pidge shot him a flat glare.  “What?  It was!”

Keith rolled his eyes.  “Out or in?” He asked Shiro.  “Before this becomes an argument.”

Considering, Shiro glanced at the other three, then at Lance’s pout.  “Out.  Sorry, Lance.  But you can switch over to the other side instead.”

Lance froze, mouth open mid-objection, then frowned.  “Then it’s all of us against you.”

“Mhmm.”

Tossing the ball between her hands, Pidge considered him.  “What do you have planned?”

Shiro’s brows rose, and he gently pushed at Lance’s back, encouraging him to cross the line.  “What could I have planned?  I don’t even have the ball.”

“I don’t like this,” Keith frowned.  “You have that look.”

Hunk tilted his head.  “What look?”

The answering flat look he got made Keith look very tired.  “Like he’s about to do something ridiculous.”

Shiro only bounced on the balls of his feet, head tilted innocently.

Finally turning back around, Lance put his hands on his hips.  “Eh, between the four of us?  We’ve got him.”

Considering him, Pidge drew the ball back like she was about to throw it.  When Shiro tensed, she shook her head and handed it off to Keith.  “No way.  There’s a plan.  I don’t like it.”

Keith took it, tossing the ball lightly in his hands.  As it connected to his palm again, he whipped back and lobbed it so hard he nearly threw off his balance.

Rather than just dodge out of the way, Shiro bent backwards at the waist like he was playing limbo, and let it sail over him.  He straightened smoothly and used his foot to stop the ball as it bounced back off the wall.  Then he kicked it back over.  “Try again.”

“Oh, today’s a show off day?” Lance translated, rolling his eyes.  “Alright, fine, let’s play.  But it’s boring if we’re all just taking turns, so…” He trotted off, retrieving the basket of dodge balls, grinning like a fiend.  “Let’s make it an actual challenge.”

This time, Shiro frowned as he tilted his head, openly calculating.  Then he smiled, wide and wolfish.  “Alright.  Bring it.”

They did.  But so did Shiro.

He twisted out of the way, not yet bothering to return fire.  Instead he dropped into a roll, avoiding Lance and Pidge’s shots, then launched into a hand spring to leap over Hunk’s more thoughtful throw.  Arching back to land on his feet, Shiro tucked into a twisting spring, avoiding a hit to his just-landed foot.  He landed on one foot on he floor, the other straight out behind him, undeniably a dancer pose.

“Fucking _arabaesque,_  seriously?” Pidge snapped.  

Shiro shot her a bland look.  “It just landed this way.  I’m not a dancer.”

“Don’t you meme at me!” Lance nearly growled, grabbing another ball.  “Months of ‘Hey it’s that boi’ and not a single ‘oh shit what up’.  You don’t get to meme now.”

Finally dropping his leg, Shiro shrugged.  “You were trying to trick me into dabbing.  It was funny.”

While he was distracted, Hunk narrowed his eyes and _threw_  the ball with all his not-inconsiderable strength.  He glanced at Lance, and they shared a quiet high five for a successful distraction.

Except rather than dodge, Shiro reached out with his right hand and caught it.

“I think that’s out,” Shiro called.  Then he threw the ball without looking, getting Pidge on the hip.  “So’s that.”

Hunk raised his hand.  “I’d like to submit that the robot arm is cheating.”

Brows up, Shiro gave him a flat look.  “Then come take it off.”

“You know what?  Pass.  I’ll take being out.”

Shiro laughed and took a few slow steps back into the mess of discarded dodge balls behind him.  “And now the part where Keith and Lance have to work together.  This will be-”  Whatever it would be to Shiro was lost as his heel landed on one of the balls, which slipped out from under him.  His balance wavered, and his arms shot out to the sides to prevent immediately crashing to the ground.

Sharing a quick look, Keith and Lance both grabbed a ball each and threw.

The impacts were enough to push Shiro the rest of the way over, and he hit the ground hard, sending more dodge balls skittering and bouncing away.

“Well, that was my fault,” Shiro told the ceiling.

Stepping over, Keith frowned at him and dropped another ball onto his chest.  It bounced off and rolled away.  “Shouldn’t have showed off.”

“Probably.  You crossed the line.”

“I was making sure you hadn’t cracked open your stupid head.”

Lance moved over and sat down next to Shiro.  For a moment his expression was flat, but then he cracked a grin.  “It was pretty cool through.  It was ballet?”

Smiling back, Shiro pushed himself up.  “Only at the end.  The basics were there, though.  I can show you them, but I don’t think they’ve been too useful, other than just muscle building.  Maybe a _grand jeté_ or two have actually be useful, but…”

“You’re showing off again and I’m the only one who knows it.  And I don’t care.”  Pidge eyed him.  “Your reminding me of when I had to take ballet classes and I nearly strangled someone from annoyance.  I only got to quit when I hacked the sprinkler system to go off whenever I entered the building.”

Shiro burst into laughter, hand coming up to cover his mouth.  “Sorry.  That just… of course you did.  How about we practice hand springs and rolls instead?  Good compromise?”

Nose crinkled, Hunk sighed.  “I preferred the dance stuff.”

“Same.”  Lance nodded.

“I don’t want to do any of it,” Keith muttered.  “Can we keep playing dodge ball?  Before Allura realizes we’ve stopped and decides she wants to be our opponent.”

There was a moment of dead silence.

“Dodge ball is good,” Shiro replied, shoving himself up and to his feet.  

He could take a lot, but no one could say Shiro didn’t like a challenge.  But that?

No.  Just no.


	11. Krypto the Voltron Dog

  
[protectshiroatallcosts](http://protectshiroatallcosts.tumblr.com/) asked:

An idea: shiro finding a super earth dog-like alien stray and nearly crying cause maybe it looks like a dog he used to own??? But he slowly earns its trust and brings it with him on the castle and it's happy and pure and it sleeps with him which helps with his nightmares and no im not crying what

 

 

They found him in a demolished city, one day after the initial attacks.

The mission was simple: Recover anything they could from the ruined government building to bring to the evacuated population.

In the end, there wasn’t much left of the building.  They had Yellow lift up the top and dug through the rubble.  Aside from a few drawers with of papers, and a couple of sturdier metal decorations, the place was pretty much demolished.  

But something had moved in.

The sound of rustling initially made Shiro turn, arm let and aggressive.  But then he saw the reflected purple spots on two dark eyes, and he paused.  Oh.  An animal. To be cautious, he turned off his arm but lit the built in flashlight, and put it closer to see the shape of the animal without shining directly on it.

“Apollo?”

(Read more below)

The name came out without Shiro meaning it to.  Of course it wasn’t Apollo.  He’d been an old dog back when Shiro was very young, and he’d died long before- well, before he’d gone to live with his aunt and uncle.  At times, Shiro had wished he’d survived for the move, but it had been better - Apollo wouldn’t have enjoyed overseas travel at all, and it would have been another bother of taking Shiro in.

Picking her head up, Pidge glanced over.  “What now?”

Making a face, Shiro knelled down on the ground and pulled over his pack.  He was pretty sure he still had- hah.  Leftovers from lunch, because Shiro could never bring himself to throw away food.  “There’s a dog.”

“A dog?  You mean like, a space dog?  One of those Yupper things?”  Lance trotted over, but slowed to a crawl when Shiro held up a hand.  No need to scare the poor thing by running over.

Shiro picked apart the sandwich, taking out the meat, and then ripped it into parts.  He tossed it closer and watched to see what the dog would do.  “No, I mean it’s a dog.  A dog-dog.  Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s a Hokkaido, if one that needs a bath and a good meal.”

Walking over at a much slower pace, Hunk peered over the rocks as the dog sniffed at the meat, unsure.  “You’re right.  Not about the breed, ‘cause I don’t know that, but that’s just… that’s a dog.  Why is there a dog?”

“We have a cow in the castle,” Keith pointed out flatly.  “Clearly they get out here somehow.  There could be another weird Earth store.”

The dog finally ate the scrap, gobbling it up in a second.  It stuck it’s nose out, sniffing for more, and eyeing them warily.  Shiro threw another piece, and this time there was only a moment’s hesitation before the dog jumped on it.  “Do we have anything that will work as a bowl?” He asked.

Hunk hummed thoughtfully, then dug into his bag and brought out what looked like a kind of disc.  Without needing to be asked, he filled it with water and pushed it over.  The dog backpedaled, clearly nervous, then tentatively sniffed that as well.  After a moment, it started to lap.

“Shiro,” Pidge murmured.  “You’ve got a weird look on your face.”

Unable to help it, Shiro’s lips quirked up.  “It’s probably the face I was wearing when I first met you all.  Definitely Keith.”

Lance snorted in amusement.  “Is the dog going to be our new second in command?  Because I’m okay with that.”

“Not that kind of look.”  Shiro ripped off part of the sandwich and dropped it closer to them.  This time the dog paused again, taking wary step after wary step, but did take the food, scrambling away to the bowl to eat it in safety.  “We have plenty of meat stock now, so I think we might be able to-”  He winced and frowned, jumping ahead to the logistics.  “Or not.”

Lance nudged his side.  “Hey, if you can convince the dog to come along, I’m okay with it.  We need a mascot, right?  Get him a lil set of armor.”

“Are we sure?”  Under the sudden looks, Pidge winced and held up her hands.  “I get it, I’d love to have a dog around.  But are we sure we can make that work?”

“I think so,” Hunk replied easily.  “Why not, right?  We can set up an area where it’s okay for them to use the bathroom, and then there’s plenty of space for running around.  Safer in the castle than here, too.  Look at the poor lil guy, there’s no food here that hasn’t gone bad, probably.  Maybe some rodents, but…  I think it’d be okay, as long as Allura and Coran say yes.”

God, the hope in Shiro’s chest was a physical, painful thing.  He wanted a dog.  He _loved_  dogs, and he’d adored Apollo as long as he could remember.

“Go for it,” Keith said.  “But first you have to get that dog to want to go.”

But already the dog was moving closer again, eyes bright and on the last few scraps of Shiro’s sandwich.  When he put his hand out, the stray gave it a tentative sniff, but then otherwise ignored it.  When Shiro held it out, careful to keep his fingers carefully on the very edge, the dog took it surprisingly gentle, then stuck close.

Honestly, Shiro suspected this dog had once been a pet, or at least cared for by some being.  It was learning too fast for anything else.

“Krypto,” he decided, lips curled up.

“Seriously?” Pidge muttered.  “Alright, whatever, alien earth dog, I guess that works.”

***

Allura and Coran weren’t thrilled at the idea, at first.  Krypto was a scruffy thing for sure, and beyond skittish.  He warned to Shiro quickly, though, as the source of food and water, and after a good bath and a cut he looked more like a pet and less like a wild animal.

It wasn’t until they found Shiro sleeping later, with Krypto curled against his side and the hint of tear tracks still on his cheeks, that the arguments fully died.

Krypto wasn’t a perfect fix, and so he spent more time in a dog bed than in Shiro’s bed, just in case.  But on that particular night on the couch, memories of his childhood heavy and comforting, Shiro didn’t have any nightmares at all. 


	12. Hunk nosebleed

anonymous  asked:

Prompt: Poor Hunk getting a nosebleed in training? Shiro wants to help but the blood gives him memories?

 

(Note: Warning for descriptions of blood and for violence)

* * *

It was a face of their reality that sometimes there was blood in training.  After all, it wasn’t useful if they weren’t learning the skills they needed and the ability to perform them in realistic circumstances.  Everyone had ended up cut and bruised and scuffed up, because it was better to get that way on the Castle and heal it up than in the field where it could kill someone.

That didn’t mean Shiro liked it.  He didn’t exactly enjoy getting smacked around cleaning up cuts at the end of the day, and it was worse to see it on his team.  But it was a necessary evil, and Shiro was at peace with that.

Usually.

Some days it all felt a little more pointless.  Like when the training bot reeled back for a punch and slammed Hunk in the nose with its metal elbow, and he went down in a heap.

“You alright there?” Shiro called, not stopping training quite yet.  Normally they all just popped back up and got back into the game, no serious harm done.

Today, when Hunk sat up, the bottom half of his face was covered in blood.  “Yeah,” he replied, but then groaned and covered his face.

Oh boy.

(Read More Below)

Shiro stopped the bot as Lance crashed down on his knees next to Hunk.  “Oh, yikes, dude.  Nasty bump you got there.  That’s gunna smart.  I think you’re bleeding more now than I was when I got blown up.”

There was a chortle, and then a groan.  “No laughing,” Hunk complained, his voice thick and nasal, but when he looked up his eyes were crinkled at the corner.  “Shush.”

Lance held up his hands placatingly and offered a smile, though it was shaky and thin.  “I can’t help it, I’m just funny all the time.”

Snorting, Keith came over with a towel and handed it Hunk.  “Think it’s broken?”

Hunk let out a groan. “Dunno,” he replied softly, dabbing at his face.  “Just hurts.”

Nodding to Pidge, who trotted off to fetch Coran and their usual cleaning supplies, Shiro settled down in front of Hunk.  “Tell me when it hurts, okay?”  When Hunk gave an understanding hum (and then winced), Shiro started to press his thumbs along Hunk’s cheeks, starting from the corner of his eyes and down to his nose.

About an inch and a half away, Hunk let out a groan.  “Hurts,” he reported, eyes closed tightly shut.

Shiro sighed and nodded.  “Alright.  It might just be swelling, but I think you’ll have a pair of shinners tomorrow.  Unless Coran can fix it up.”  This actually wasn’t a problem they’d had yet.  Hmm.  “Try to put pressure on it, okay?  Pinch your nose, and then tilt it forward.”

“I thought you were supposed to tilt it back,” Keith offered, frowning.

Shaking his head, Lance made a face.  “No, that’s a myth.  I used to get them, and if you tilt your head back you might swallow some and that can make you throw up.  And no offense, Hunk, but you tend to be a little sensitive on that front.  If there any in your mouth, spit it out.”

While Keith was still musing on that - and Shiro was trying not to think about the number of bloody noses Keith had probably treated incorrectly in the past - Hunk made a face and spat into the towel.  “Gross,” he pronounced, doing it again.  The inside of his mouth was deep red, and the spit came out tinged pink and trying to cling to Hunk’s lips.

Shiro’s focused locked onto it and wouldn’t let go.  Slowly, he pulled his hands back, and his palm and fingers spread through the blood still smeared over Hunk’s face, staining them.

_-Even if the translators had been working, Shiro couldn’t have been able to tell what the alien was saying.  Their mouth and jaw were split open from Shiro’s blade, and every time they took a gasping, shaking breath, they’d spit out more dark red blood.  Shiro kneeled down next to them, first to make sure they stayed down, then transfixed with horror as they continued to try and talk.  He reached out, and at first their flinched from his hand, but then stayed still while he just touched, trying desperately to figure out how to fix this.  The arena faded away, the fight slipped from his mind, all Shiro wanted was to not watch this being suffer any longer._

_He glanced up at the guards, hoping for an end to the fight, that they’d be taken away, but the crowds were still roaring and no one was coming.  They were going to let them bleed out, watch them slowly choke to death on their own blood._

_Unless…_

_Shiro lifted the blade in question.  The alien’s eyes were wild, but then they gargled something, spraying more blood over Shiro’s cheeks.  Then they arched their neck in plea._

_He struck.-_

The sight of something other than a bloody face in his field of vision snapped Shiro back into the present, and he yanked himself away, arm still tense and shaking with readiness to strike.  

“Here,” Pidge said, dabbing over Hunk’s face carefully.  “This should numb it a little.  Good, you’re already holding on.  You wouldn’t believe the nosebleeds Mom used to get, that’s the best way.  She thought we’d get it too, so she made me and Matt memorize what to do.  How long have you been holding it?  You can check after ten minutes, and by the Coran will be here too.”

As Pidge continued to talk a mile a minute, Shiro took a deep breath and dropped his hands into his lap.  No one seemed to notice his momentary lapse, which meant he’d probably just frozen for a moment.  Good.  If Shiro was going to have a moment, he’d rather have one quietly, where it doesn’t hurt anyone and no one even needs to know.  He could lick his wounds in peace, that way.

“-the little machine will take, uh, about 20 minutes, so hopefully we’ll stop the bleeding before that so you would have to hold it the whole time, since I don’t think your hands need to be healed.  Kind of a wasted effort.  Then again, maybe it’ll prevent carpal tunnel in the future, I’ll have to look into it.”

When Shiro looked again, Hunk’s face was almost entirely cleaned of blood, and he was still tilting his head and pinching his nose, listening to Pidge’s chatter as he waited.

This time, the memories stayed away.

It wasn’t until later, when Coran had arrived and was using some machine to scan over Hunk’s face, that Shiro excused himself to step away and wash his hands.

Watching the red fade to pink and wash down the drain, Shiro gave himself a moment to think what would have happened if he’d acted out the flashback instead of just seen it.

Thankfully he was already in the bathroom, so being sick wasn’t as much of a problem.

***

“You should see the other guy,” Shiro joked, sitting down next to Hunk at the kitchen table.  

He continued to watch forlornly as Lance tried and failed to coral Coran out of making dinner, then turned to look at Shiro.  Reaching up, Hunk’s fingers brushed the bandage over his nose, and he gave a smile that didn’t make him wince.  “The other guy was made of metal.”

“Metal that we normally shred, so I think you still come out on top.”  Hunk nodded thoughtfully at that, then went back to watching.

Shiro would offer to try and help, but at least Coran’s creations were technically edible, if not generally pleasant.  That was a step above anything non-microwavable Shiro had done.

After a moment, Shiro rested his chin on his palm and nudged Hunk.  “You okay?  You seem to be feeling better.”

Hunk nodded.  “Yeah.  The bandages has sensors in it, so Coran wants me to keep it on overnight in case ‘my delicate human airwaves decide to give out’.  So, you know, new nightmares for the week.  But it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”  He glanced over, brows up.  “How about you?”

Pausing, Shiro tilted his head.  “I wasn’t hit.”

“You kinda faded there for a second.  Considering there was blood, that’s not really surprising.”

Shit.

Closing his eyes, Shiro nodded.  “Yeah, it was a short one.  Happens.  Have you had ice, yet?”

“Shiro, I’m healed, I don’t need ice.”  Hunk rolled his eyes.  “How bad was it?”

Shiro tapped his fingers on the table, then sighed.  “Not bad.  Just uncomfortable.  Honestly, Hunk, I’m used to it.  I’ll keep it together in the field.”

Expression darkening, Hunk huffed.  “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“You-”  Shiro winced.  “Yeah, I know.  But it really wasn’t a bad one.  You don’t have to worry.”

“I do anyway.  I worry over everyone.”  Hunk eyed him, lips curling up.  “We can start a club.”

Shiro nodded seriously.  “Mother Hens Anonymous.”

“Worry wart recovery.”

“Parent friends intergalactical.”

By the end, they were both grinning.  Reaching over, Shiro ruffled Hunk’s hair.  “Sure you don’t want ice?”

Hunk groaned.  “Fine, alright.  If it’ll help I use the ice.”

With a smile, Shiro got up and dodged through the chaos of a Coran-and-Lance manned kitchen for an ice pack.

Hunk obligingly wore it the whole dinner, despite Coran’s confusion and well passed when it must have warmed.

Shiro didn’t stop smiling into his goo the whole time.


	13. Black vs Zarkon

Anon asked: Penny for your thoughts…this might make the narrative too short, but what if, in the space mall episode, Shiro and Black had defeated/killed Zarkon (who then, apparently, would be dead in the real world)? What would the eventual how-has-your-day-gone exchange look like? (An even more ludicrous contrast in tone? Other paladins: Soooo, while we were out, we seem to have maybe ended up with a cow. Shiro: Soooo, while you were out, I seem to have maybe ended Zarkon…)

 

* * *

 

“And this is why you have this…. cow.”  Allura drew the word out slowly like she was tasting it and not sure she liked it.  Her gaze drew back over to the cow in question, who continued to wander the control room, likely in search of grass.

Shrugging, Pidge nodded.  “Yep.  And this!”  She held up her video game console above her head, letting out an excited whoop.  “Forget the cow, we have video games, now!”

Lance let out a yelp and trotted over to the cow, covering her ears.  “Don’t talk about Kaltenecker that way!”  Unbothered by Lance’s attempts to preserve her self-esteem, the cow wandered off.  Lance continued to chase her, which at least didn’t seem to bother the creature.

“Compared to that, I didn’t do too badly,” Hunk reported.

Keith eyed him.  “Yeah, you only got shackled to a food court stand.”

“I got out, and people really liked my food.”  Shrugging, Hunk gave a little smile.  “Uh, there might be a small bounty on me.  A little one.  By the stall owner.  He didn’t want me to leave after.  I’m sure there’s bigger ones for us.”

For a moment there was silence, as Allura stared at all four, then looked at Coran.  He shrugged and grinned at her, still shuffling the lenses in his hands.

Visibly giving up, Allura turned to look at Shiro.  “How did bonding go?”

Shiro had stayed quiet for his team’s stories.  Normally he’d have questions - _many_  questions - but today he couldn’t manage.  Steeping his fingers in his hands, Shiro slowly tracked his eyes to up to meet Allura’s.  “Um.  Zarkon might be dead.”

There was dead silence.

“You wanna… run that by us again?” Lance asked, finally returning from his attempts to cover Kaltenecker’s ears.  “Like, he’s a zombie or something?”

Shiro shook his head, still slow.  Everything felt a little like he was under water.  Shock, maybe.  “No, I mean killed.  Uh, apparently the Black Lion can astral project?  Or create some kind of mind space?  It was very purple.”  He glanced at Coran and Allura, hoping for either reassurance or to be told flat out he’d lost his mind.

Sharing a glance, Coran cleared his throat.  “It’s… not impossible, given the Black Lion’s specialization.  I suppose.”

So, basically, they’d never heard of it but they were willing to play ball.  Fair enough.

“And Zarkon was there.  I think that’s how he was tracking the Black Lion.  And we fought.”

Allura jolted, eyes going wide.  “Shiro!  That’s _incredibly_  dangerous.  Zarkon is a powerful opponent, and not one you can take without your team.  If you were to die in that kind of space-”

Then she froze as Shiro’s implications hit.

“Oh, yeah,” Shiro agreed.  “I didn’t have a chance.  Never even got a hit on him, not really.  But he started to talk about how the Black Lion was his no matter what and no matter what the lion felt, and it was just a tool to be used.  And he had me by the throat, so he wasn’t really paying attention and…”

He trailed off, gaze distant.

“And what?” Pidge demanded, leaning forward.  “What happened?”

Shiro swallowed.  “The Black Lion ate him,” he replied, voice small.  He didn’t look at any of them, lost in the memory.

There was another silence, this one stunned.  “Shiro?” Keith asked carefully. “Are you…?”

“You know that sound, when you use those little handheld tools to crack open a crab shell?”

“Oh. _Oh.”_ Hunk went pale and swallowed hard.  “That’s… I guess he did kind of have a shell, huh?”

Shiro swallowed.  “So, um, I think he might be dead.  I also think I might…not go back in the Black Lion.  For the day.”

“You wanted me to fly _that?”_  Keith asked.

Lance froze.  “You wanted Keith to fly the Black Lion?” He demanded.

“You did it before,” Shiro reminded Keith, who looked suddenly uncomfortable with the memory.

Coran cleared his throat.  “Well, we can’t know for sure now if Zarkon is actually dead.  But we should know soon enough.  We simply wait to be tracked.  We can escape now that we have these.”  He held up the lenses.  “We need to stop to put them up anyway.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Allura replied, and she sounded completely dubious.  But she didn’t seem to want to disagree with Shiro either, especially when he was so strung out.

Shiro nodded.  “We’ll wait.  If no one minds, I think I’m going to-” he paused before saying ‘go to bed’, aware that was a horrible idea right now.  “I’m going to go sit down for a while.”

Trotting over, Pidge matched his pace.  “Want to hear more about the space mall?”

Shiro glanced down, then offered a tired smile.  “Sure, I’d like that.”

Pidge started to talk about their disguises, and the others started to chime in as well, until the whole chattering group disappeared down the hall.

Allura and Coran were left to stare at each other.

“Do you really think…?” Allura asked.

Coran gave a helpless shrug.  “We’ll see.  Normally I’d say that’s now how the lion works, but we’ve already had it proven that what we think is the limit is inaccurate.  And that’s quite the detail to imagine.”

Nodding slowly, Allura gazed after them again.  “Then we wait.”

They did wait.

They weren’t tracked by the Black Lion again, and soon news of the Galra Empire falling into infighting and chaos started to reach their ears.

After that, the entire group was just a little more respectful of the lions.

Shiro got the feeling the Black Lion was amused at the whole thing.

It was not comforting knowledge.


	14. Follow Up to With Every Broken Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow up to [chapter six of With Every Broken Bone](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7530757/chapters/17928859)

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I know you're a busy toaster so this is to be chewed over at your leisure, obviously, but would you ever consider doing anything with if the rest of the paladins found out that Shiro tried to get Allura and Coran to agree to kill him in With Every Broken Bone? Because I can't see any single one of them taking that shit well -at all-. (Sorry if you've been asked this/have done this before and I missed it! Disregard this, then.)

This has not been asked, so enjoy!!

Shiro rested his cheek on his palm, watching the scanner run over his Galra arm with detached, vague interest.

This, at least, didn’t bother him.  No one was rooting through his arm or pulling out any kind of equipment for messing with the mechanics.  At least, not yet.

On screen, a model of his arm started to appear, shifting with the slight movements of Shiro’s fingers.  Real time, it seemed.  Shiro started to move his fingers, making a fist and then counting up, just to watch the wireframe version on the monitor match it half a second later.

Pidge’s hand came down and rapped him on the knuckles, not hard enough to hurt but certainly enough to startle.  The wire model version jolted and hazed, then steadied.

“Quit that,” Pidge told him, pointing a screwdriver at him threateningly.  “You’re messing with my data.”

Biting back a smile, Shiro straightened professionally.  “I apologize,” he intoned, just shy of being full on dramatic.

On his other side, Hunk chuckled.  “You should be scared, not sorry.  Getting between a Pidge and her data?  You’ll be bulldozed.”

“I can be both,” Shiro replied, shrugging.  “At the risk of causing more trouble, can I ask how long this is going to take?”

“No,” Pidge shot back, turning back to her screen.

(Read More Below)

Hunk eyed her, rolling his eyes.  “About half an hour more, I think.  The outer scans are fast, but the internal ones take some more time.  But after that we can blow it up and take the image apart, and really have a good standard for repair.”  The view changed, still match Shiro’s arm, but now without the casing on it.  “And we’ll see all the dust and gunk inside.  Be prepared to be embarrassed.”

“I’m always prepared.”  Shiro leaned forward to see better, narrowing his eyes to read the tiny print scrolling by.  But it was in Altean, not English, so he gave up and leaned back.  “I’ll feel better when we finally have a complete picture, no matter how many crumbs you find inside.  I don’t want anymore surprises like the chip.”

From the other side of the room, Lance looked up from his card game with Keith.  If anything, he looked glad for the excuse to stop.  Which Shiro didn’t blame him for - Keith’s absurd luck with card games was a source of unending frustration for any opponent.  By now, Shiro had learned to sic Keith on other people rather than try to play with him.  “You think there are more?  Nothing’s happened for months,” Lance pointed out.

Shiro shrugged.  “It’s possible.  And we should have plans just in case.”  He paused, brow furrowing.  “I need to speak to Allura and Coran about that, actually.”

There was a slight pause.  “What do you need to talk to them about?” Pidge asked, the words coming slowly.  “We dealt with you last time, so why them?”

“It’s not your job to handle me if something goes wrong,” Shiro pointed out, frowning.  “There are some things I won’t ask of you.”

Keith started then looked over, eyes narrowed.  “What kinds of things, Shiro?”  

Oh, boy.  That was Keith’s Tone.  The one that meant he was going to latch onto an idea like a bulldog.

Damage control time.

“Absolute worst case scenarios,” Shiro replied.  “And it’s something I already discussed with them before.  Last time.”

“I’m really not liking how vague you’re being,” Hunk muttered, turning to fully face Shiro.  “Even if we don’t implement them, why can’t we know about your plans?  Really, if anyone should be excluded, it should be you, right?  Measures to contain you don’t mean much if you know about them.”

Shiro hesitated just a second.

That was enough.

“You aren’t looking for containment, are you?” Pidge asked, horror dawning in her voice.  “And you talked with them before?  About what?”

Before Shiro could answer, Lance stood up and moved over.  “Don’t lie.  I’ll ask Coran after.  You know he won’t lie to me.”

Well, Coran might hide it like Shiro would, but it was just as likely that he wouldn’t.  Especially if Lance came at it like he already knew, and he was plenty clever enough to figure that out.

“It’s not-” Shiro’s voice caught under the sudden scrutiny.  He looked away, shrugging.  “It’s worst case scenario, like I said.  If I’m a danger to you all- well, that can’t be allowed.”

A hand slammed down right outside his vision.  Shiro jolted, then turned to see Keith, his eyes burning. “Then we lock you up until we can fix it!”

Shiro only gave a bitter smile back.  Eventually, there would be a slip-up, and Shiro would take it.  He was very good at getting out of captivity, and no one on this ship was going to be nearly as rough as the Galra had been.

“So your answer is to have a plan on how to kill you?” Hunk asked.  His hands clenched against the table, and his voice was getting thick.

Shit.  “No, not how.  Who.”  Shiro winced.  “I’m sorry, it’s not about- I’m not saying the Princess or Coran should do it right this moment. I’d just… I’d feel better if there was preparation.  Just in case.”

“No.”

“Keith-”

Shaking his head, Keith scowled.  “No!  Unacceptable.  If they try something, I’ll stop them.”

Shiro stared.  “I mean if there’s nothing else to be done, Keith, not just because I had a bad day.”

But Keith looked unmoved.  “There’s no situation bad enough that I’ll let them kill you.”

Horror clashed with frustration, and Shiro clenched his fist hard.  “That’s not your call.”  His voice dropped into a command tone, the implication heavy.

“I won’t either.”

Hunk’s voice was soft, a surprise after Shiro and Keith had started to get loud.  When Shiro looked over, Hunk’s head was down, but he met the look dead on.

On his other side, Pidge nodded.  “Neither will I.”

“Same,” Lance added, nearly casual.

Looking between them all, Shiro edged back.  “It’s not any of your decisions.  It’s mine.”

“And it’s ours to stop it,” Pidge shot back.  “Do not ask me to watch part of my family die.”

The words hit like a physical blow.  “I-”  Shiro swallowed hard and looked over her face.  While Pidge’s eyes were dry, there was a tension to the corners that hinted that it was through force of will rather than lack of reaction.  “But I can’t- What if I hurt someone?”

What if I hurt you?

“So, ask us to hurt you or watch you be killed, so that you don’t have to see us hurt instead?”  Lance leaned against the table, head tilted.  “How’s that fair?”

It wasn’t.

Swallowing, Shiro worked that over in his mind, trying to come up with words for the desperate feeling in his chest.  

But Lance was right.  They were all right.

Finally, he took a deep breath.  “I need- something.  A safety net.  Some way of knowing that I could never…”

That Shiro would never be Sendak, would never be Zarkon.  That he’d never be the monster he was afraid he’d become, the broken tool of the Galra Empire.

Shiro needed that reassurance, needed more than words.

“Fine,” Keith replied, so flatly that Shiro looked up.  “I’ll do it.”

There was another silence.  “Excuse me, wait,” Pidge replied, something acidic in her tone.  “I thought the point was that Shiro wasn’t going to die.”

But Keith met Shiro’s gaze steadily, and there was understanding in the gaze.  “He’ll just go around us.  So fine.  If it comes to that, I’ll do it.  But it’ll be on my standards.”

Shiro hated this plan.

Shiro hated it.

But that was the point.  Keith would.  He’d exhaust every possibility, but if it came to that, he’d keep his word.

And Shiro would have to know he’d made Keith kill him.

It was a plan that gave them both what they needed, but that neither of them wanted.

Wasn’t that the definition of compromise.

“Thank you,” Shiro murmured, the words forced out of his numb lips.

Nodding back, Keith sat down hard, like there was something heavy on his shoulders.

Something Shiro had put there.

Silence held, near suffocating.  But then Hunk reached out, slow so that Shiro could see, and wrapped him in a hug.  “We just love you.”

“I know,” Shiro replied, and he felt Hunk smile at the reference.  “I know.”

And that was part of why it hurt.

But it was better than not feeling anything at all.  This should hurt.

Shiro would just have to put effort into keeping it from happening rather than dealing when it did.

Which was the point of the plan, no doubt.

Clever bastards, all of them.


	15. Translation of "I Love You" - WARNING: ULIRO

Anonymous asked:

Uliro(Shulaz) Love confessions? Shiro says 'I love you' to Ulaz but it doesn't translate to the proper meaning & they have a conversation about human ways of showing love. Then Shiro asks Ulaz how Galra confess love. The rest is up to you.

“I love you.”

There was a pause.  Ulaz’ hands stilled in Shiro’s hair, and he went stiff against Shiro’s back.

Maybe a confession had been a mistake.  But it had occurred to Shiro how safe he felt with Ulaz, how utterly content he was to lay with him for as long as their lives would allow.  The words had just tumbled out.

Finally, Ulaz moved again, shifting so that Shiro slid down his chest a couple of inches.  Then Ulaz looked down at him, brow furrowed and lips pulled down.  “You… affectionate, sexual feelings me?”

Shiro swallowed hard.  “I- it doesn’t… I’m sorry if that’s not what- It just came out.”  He closed his mouth, coloring at the fact that he was actually rambling.

Then what Ulaz actually said clicked.

“Did that not translate?”

Ulaz shook his head.  “Somewhat.  It was clumsy.  It was… several words.  I could tell you only spoke one.  Clan-Sex-Friendship feelings me.”

Oh, jeez, that was a mess.  Turning around, Shiro considered him.  “You don’t have a word for love?”

“I still do not know what you’re saying.”

Right.  “It’s… it’s when you care for a being very much and you’d like to continue being affectionate with them for the foreseeable future.”  Shiro frowned, head tilted.  “It’s difficult to explain.  It’s a very fundamental concept for humans.”

Ulaz nodded slowly.  “So you… repeat the word?”

“Love.” Shiro drew it out, speaking louder so Ulaz could hear the syllables over the translation.

“You love me, and you love your team?”

This could get complicated.  “Yes, but in different ways.  It’s the same word, but we categorize it by types in context.  The love for you is different than the one for my team, or for my family.  This is more based around… romance?”  Judging by Ulaz’ expression, that didn’t translate either.  “Okay, this is really reductive, but… what would you call someone you reproduced with?”

“A mate,” Ulaz replied carefully.  “But I thought you said you could not carry?”

Shiro held up his hands.  “I can’t.  That’s no different.  But romance is stereotypically considered the kind where you would have sex and have children with.  That’s really, really reductive and it doesn’t take into account factors like us, or people who don’t want to have sex, or kids, or a billion other things.  But I’m trying for common ground, here.”

Finally, something seemed to click for Ulaz.  “Oh.  Humans pair with their mates long term?”

“Yes!”  There it was.  “There’s an emotional commitment to romantic love.  Like a very deep friendship.  It makes someone family.  Often legally.”

Ulaz ear flicked.  “Like the paladins?”

“Well, yes, but not-”  Taking a deep breath, Shiro held up a hand.  “That’s all love, but this is a specific kind.  A subsection. It just means I like our relationship - and you - and that I want to keep it up for a long time.”

For a moment, Ulaz simply considered him.  Then he scooted forward and tugged Shiro closer.  “I have embarrassed you.  I’m sorry.  I also wish for this relationship to last.”  He kissed the top of Shiro’s head.  “You have introduced me to many new concepts over the past months.  Such as your kissing, or other uses for your mouth.”

“You would latch onto that,” Shiro muttered, pressing his face into Ulaz’ chest.  He was equal parts embarrassed and pleased, which was a strange mix to bubble in his stomach.

“However,” Ulaz continued, ignoring his bashful butters.  “I believe this one is the most useful.  You have given me a word for feelings I couldn’t explain.  Thank you.”

Glancing up, Shiro’s eyes went wide, and then he beamed.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Is there something I should do?  Now that we have said the love?”

Hmm, Shiro was going to have to go over conjugations with Ulaz if he was going to keep talking about it.   “Nothing special.  Maybe we could demonstrate it.  There are many ways of doing that.  Uh, courtship?”  Ulaz frowned, baffled.  “Don’t worry about it.  Small gifts, shows of affection.  But none of them are necessary, they’re just reinforcement.”

“I will think about this,” Ulaz promised.  “For now, I do know some ways of showing affection.”  He leaned down and kissed Shiro.  “Will that do?”

Shiro grinned back.  “Give it another shot and we’ll see.”

Smiling back, Ulaz obeyed.


	16. Ten Years On Additions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of these are essential for the story, they're just fun asides in response to Tumblr questions.
> 
> Also contains one-sided (ish) Uliro

Anonymous asked:  
Why do I get the feeling that in the 10 years on verse each 26/the one-year-older-than-however-old-you-hc-shiro-as bday for the was really hard?  
Mmm, you mean specifically the first birthday after he left? I think that one was actually one of the easiest. They hadn’t given up hope then. Shiro had been gone for longer and turned back up, after all. It was hard still, of course, and worse given that it would have been an actual birthday (Kerberos mission was year XX14, series takes place a year later in XX15, XX16 is the first leap year after). But they still had hope.

I think the hardest one was 5 years after. After they’d had time to exhaust every option, to tick past the date where it’s reasonable to assume that maybe he’s still okay somewhere else. If he’s been kept somewhere like the Galra, if he’s being kept away, 5 years is a long, long time.

XX20 was the bad year, because it would be his real birthday again, but they can’t hold out hope. But I think at that point he wound was… not healed, because there’s no closure. But it’s a quiet pain. I think they spent the days leading up to it quiet and tightly knit, but on the day of, they split off.

Pidge and Hunk would work on the replacement arm they’d been quietly planning. They know by now it wouldn’t fit anymore, wouldn’t match him, but it’s still nice to think about. After five years it’s over-engineered to hell and back, but if something ever turns up, they’ll have something to offer.

Matt and Sam check in on everyone, then open a bottle of something sufficiently alcoholic and share stories about training and the Kerberos mission.

Lance trains first. He goes through his paces with the bayard, running through defensive exercises, working on pinpoint accuracy. The types of skills that would protect his teammates. At times like that, it’s easiest to remember Shiro’s voice, remember his advice. Remembers that fierce determination to see them all home, and tries to take it on himself. The he spends some time with Blue where he knows no one can see him.

Allura and Coran document everything. They catalog a year’s worth of information, of learning, of pictures and recordings. They send them to their allies, to libraries all over the universe, to all the members of the team. There’s no guarantee of survival for anyone, not them and not the other paladins. But they can make sure that everyone in the castle is immortalized by making sure the knowledge doesn’t die with them. They protect Altean, protect their team and protect themselves from that fate. (Shiro disappeared with so little of him left: few possessions, few pictures. His loss was great but the presence was small. It’s something they don’t want for each other or for any survivors, not again.)

Keith holes himself up in Shiro’s unused room. He rages, he burns, he screams. Everyone avoids the hall so they can honestly say they hadn’t heard him, because the walls aren’t soundproof enough to contain him. Keith lets out the frustration and pain that Shiro left again, he’s just gone. That nothing can ever make him stay, that Keith always ends up waiting for him, and this time the waiting may well be forever. Keith gives himself the day to just hurt. When it’s enough, when he finally feels like he’s spit out all the bile that’s built in him, when he tries and each tear stings but after he feels empty, he goes and joins Matt and Sam and tells them every embarrassing story that Shiro would hate for him to tell.

That fifth year is the hardest.

None of them are easy.

* * *

 

Anonymous asked:

Shiro coming back after 10 years and still having that weird thing for Ulaz and suddenly... he's not there :( poor guy

Well Shiro already knew Ulaz was gone.  He’s used to that, if still mourning at least a little.

**SHIRO:**  How do you know Ulaz was flirting with me?  How could you tell?  
 **PIDGE:** Shiro, it was ten goddamn years ago.  But he wouldn’t shut up about how wonderful you were  
 **SHIRO** : He was saying that about everyone, though  
 **HUNK:**  He really wasn’t  
 **LANCE:**  Why are you so hung up on this, anyway?  What- oh.  Oh my god.  
 **PIDGE:**  You- really?  
 **SHIRO** : I have no idea what you’re talking about  
 **LANCE** : Oh my god you have a crush on Ulaz.  Oh, Shiro, you poor lamb  
 **SHIRO:**  Lam- no.  _No._  
 **LANCE:**  *eyeing Keith behind Shiro’s back and smirks* So Galras aren’t a deal breaker, huh?  
 **KEITH:**  *mimes a strangling motion*  
 **SHIRO:**  Nope, I am not having this conversation with you all  
 **HUNK** : Aww, you can talk to us about it, it’s okay  
 **LANCE:**  Oooh, let’s have a sleepover and talk about boys.  
 **PIDGE:**  You are almost  _30._

 

“No, we can’t let this go,” Pidge said, crossing her arms and eyeing Shiro like a project.  He frowned back, straightening in a way that was supposed to make her at least pause, but she ignored it easily.  “Seriously, we can’t bring him around to diplomatic functions if he’s missing cues this badly.”

Seeing Shiro’s scowl, Hunk patted his arm.  “It’s a little different out here from on Earth, Shiro, it’s alright.  We all had to get used to it when the Alliance started getting bigger.

Lance flapped an airy hand.  “Mhmm.  Politics.  And the best way to learn is by doing, right?  So stand aside, peasants, let the master at it.”

Shiro tensed and seriously considered bolting from the room.  But they had a point: he wasn’t used to the diplomatic side of the job.  There had never been time. But it wasn’t just the seven of them, now, and a couple of planets. Voltron was a political organization, and Shiro had no sense of how to handle that.

The duty involved was the only thing keeping him trying to hide, honestly.

“No way,” Keith snorted.  “Most of it is going to be subtle.  We’ll get Coran to explain the basics like he did for us, and then someone else can work with him.”

Lance scowled, looking honestly irritated.  “I can do subtle.”

“You just asked Shiro if he was poured into his pants, and if he needed help getting out of them.”

Holding up one finger, Lance eyed him.  “First of all, that’s a legitimate question.  Secondly,” he paused to put up a second finger, then dropped the first so he was flipping Keith off.  “Secondly, I can be subtle.  You  _know_  I can be subtle.  I just elect not to be when I’m having some fun, so screw you.”

“Guys,” Pidge interrupted, before Shiro could say something.  “Seriously, calm down.  Besides, it defeats the purpose if he knows it’s coming.”  She turned to stare at Shiro, grin going toothy.  “It can come from anyone.  He’s gotta be prepared.”

Shiro’s eyes widened.  “Um-”

“I’ll call Coran,” Hunk offered.  “I agree he’s the best person to explain it.  I don’t think I could make it words, you know?  It’s just… how you do things.” He shrugged, and gave Shiro a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.  “You’ll be okay, you’ll figure it out.”

Shiro wasn’t so sure of that.  He’d never really dealt with subtle flirting back on Earth.  He hadn’t needed to: back then he’d had a pretty enough face and when he was looking, he went to places like bars where most everyone else was too.  Made it simple.

This was going to be an issue.

 


	17. Keith and Pidge on cryptids

 

yellowmagicalgirl asked:

Gen prompt: Keith, Pidge, and cryptids

“What do you mean, no?” Pidge demanded, gaping up at Keith.

Keith frowned back, shrugging one shoulder.  “I don’t know what you mean.  I didn’t think there was a wrong answer to this question.”

Still staring, Pidge squinted at him.  “You don’t believe in cryptids?”

“Why would I?” Keith shot back.  He leaned back in his bed, resting his back against the wall.  One booted foot dangled off the edge, and the other braced against the sheets.

Nose crinkling, Pidge stared at his feet, then shook her head and focused.  “Why wouldn’t you?  You believed the Garrison was lying about the Kerberos crash, right?”

Keith tilted his head.  “Well, yeah.  ‘Cause they were.”

“But you don’t believe in cryptids.”

“I don’t understand what those have to do with each other,” Keith replied plainly.

(Read More Below)

Pidge pulled off her glasses to scrub over her face.  “It’s like- things people just accept.  That they believe even though it’s wrong.”

Considering that, Keith watched the way Pidge’s hands flitted around her as she talked.  “Yeah, well, just because someone says something is being covered up doesn’t make it true.”

“Doesn’t it make it worth study?”

Keith shrugged again.  “Sure.  But not by me.”

“I really can’t believe this,” Pidge muttered.  “You had that giant conspiracy board.  With the photos and the lines and the graphs.”

Brow furrowed, Keith squinted at her.  “That was to find the energy source.  The one that I could feel.  That I had proof of.”

“But that no one would believe you about!” Pidge replied triumphantly.  She jumped up, hands on her hips.  “So why don’t you believe other people when they say they have proof?”

“Because their proof is crap!” Keith replied.  “It’s like, stupid stories and blurry photos that are usually faked on purpose anyway.  People get convinced that something weird or supernatural or covered up us happening all the time.  They see a pattern and they come to a weird conclusion and don’t want to be wrong anymore.”

Pidge gestured wildly around them.  “Some people don’t believe aliens exist either, you know!”

“Yeah, well, aliens would exist even if it wasn’t like this,” Keith replied.  “Those people are idiots.  Infinite chances means eventually there’s life.”  He waved her off.  “Just because I believe one thing doesn’t mean I have to believe every kooky theory that crosses my path.”

Staring at him, Pidge collapsed backward onto the bed and sighed.  “Fine.  You don’t believe in it.”

Keith braced himself on one palm and leaned over her.  “Why are you so riled over this?”

Staring at the ceiling, Pidge shrugged.

“Um…”  Keith trailed off, waiting, but she didn’t speak.  “Sorry?  I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or something.”

Pidge sighed.  “You didn’t hurt my feelings.  I dunno, I just thought you might be into it too.  I know a lot of it is silly, but it’s fun.  I like poking at puzzles and stuff.  So I thought you’d want to talk about it.”

Oh.  It hadn’t occurred to Keith that Pidge was trying to bond over an assumed shared interest.  He’d just thought it was a weird question, so he’d answered accordingly.  “Well,” he replied.  “I could be wrong.”

“You could be,” Pidge agreed.  Her eyes rolled sideways, watching him.  “I could be too.  I wouldn’t bet the fate of the world on it or anything.”

Keith’s fingers twitched against the covers.  “No, I mean…”  He waved a hand through the air, then dropped it in his lap.  “You could talk to me about it anyway.  Just ‘cause I don’t agree or didn’t look into it more doesn’t mean you can’t tell me about it.”

Slowly, Pidge sat up.  Her hair stuck up in the back, but then she gave her head a shake, and it all fell back into its usually messy mop.  “You want to listen?”

“Sure.”

Pidge continued to stare.  “But you know what I’m like, right?  You’ve seen me about, like, robots and Alan Turing.”

Keith nodded.  “Yeah.  You like those things.  What about it?”

“I get-”  She paused, considering her words more carefully.  “Overexcited.  Loud.  Fast.”

“If I need to, I’ll ask you to repeat something slower,” Keith replied.  “But you like talking about it, and it’s not a boring subject or anything.  No offense, I don’t know how long I could listen to you talking about Alan Turing or whoever else.  He doesn’t interest me.  But I could listen to a lecture on cryptids.”

Pidge’s eyes seemed very wide behind her glasses.  “Why?”

Keith paused, confused by the question.  “Because you like talking about it, and I think it’d be interesting?  Because you want to hang out and that’s a good way?  I don’t know, why do any two people listen to each other talk?”

Swallowing hard, Pidge scooted over until their shoulders were pressed together.  “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied, voice quieting.  It felt appropriate, somehow.  “This is good.”

Pidge shot him a beaming smile, warm and almost… sad?  Not sad, no.  Relieved, maybe.

Then she started to talk.

From experience, Keith already knew that Pidge threw around names and dates without pausing to clarify or explain.  He knew she talked about 200 words a second (and he knew that specifically because Lance and Pidge had once timed her to figure it out).  He knew she would lose him in about five minutes.

That was all okay.  Because it wasn’t that Keith had to answer a test at the end of the conversation.  It was that Pidge wanted to share something with him, and Keith wanted to learn about it.  It was something they could do together, and they got when the other needed space or thinking time or to rage a little.

It was about being friends.

And if that meant putting up with half an hour on the variations of the mothman mythos or whatever, Keith could do that.


	18. Keith and PIdge pretend to be siblints

atimelordswife asked:

Gen prompt: Keith & Pidge; pretending to be siblings for some reason

 

 

Okay, so maybe Pidge had been warned that this culture had fairly… reductive views about gender. Maybe Allura had taken her aside and reminded her that there were certain rules of propriety that should not be broken while on planet Dyara. Maybe Pidge had seen for herself how the aliens of a certain gender identity (not exactly ‘woman’, but what might have been called ‘feminine’) were discouraged direct mingling and contact with the aliens of the two other gender identities.

Maybe Pidge had started to make faces halfway through that lecture. Maybe she’d crossed her arms through the meeting and refused to interact with anyone, because that was technically not breaking the rules.

What Pidge had definitely done was immediately sneak out of the wing she’d been banished to so she could join her teammates.  Where she belonged.

Pidge had managed to find Keith first, and had practically shoved him into a small, abandoned room, more the size of a closet.  

“Did I miss anything?” She hissed to him.  “What’s been happening?”

Keith had snorted.  “Mostly, Shiro’s been babysitting Lance.  He keeps forgetting and trying to flirt with some of the aliens, and he’s going to get himself banished or something if he doesn’t cut it out.  Other than that, nothing yet.”  He eyed her, brows up.  “Speaking of breaking the rules.”

Waving that off, Pidge huffed.  “It’s fine.  I just- I don’t like this.  We’re all paladins.  Why are we playing along with this nonsense?”

Keith’s lips thinned.  “It’s only for the day,” he offered, but it was reluctant at best.

To be fair, none of them had liked this.  Shiro especially had protested splitting them up and singling Pidge out on her own.

Normally, Pidge had no problem going off on her own thing, but not like this.  It was usually because she found something interesting or needed to do something stealthy.  Or because the rest of her teammates had gotten themselves and the castle taken.  Not because of some stupid arbitrary rule.

Pidge didn’t think they were going to be attacked or she was going to be kidnapped or whatever.  The Galra influences here were minor.

She did think she was going to go crazy if they glaring at her whenever she spoke too loudly.  

Keith eyed her awkwardly, then sighed and reached out.  He patted her on the head, which would have been condescending from anyone else.  From Keith, it was just how he did contact, half the time.  “We’ll leave soon.  Shiro’s pushing to get this over with fast.  Just a couple more hours, alright?  Where’s Allura?”

“With the Chancellor,” Pidge replied, crinkling her nose.  “I’m not spending anymore time around him.”  He was no more odious than the rest of his people with their stupid rules, but his grating, rough voice made Pidge feel like she needed to cover her ears.

Keith nodded sympathetically.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  Just sit tight, okay?”

It wasn’t anything less than what Pidge had been expecting.  She still wanted to storm the halls and find Lance, Hunk and Shiro and grab onto everyone until they couldn’t pull her away.  But at least going along with other cultures, even ones she didn’t agree with, was part of being a diplomat and an explorer.

Pidge just really, really hated it this time.

Brows up, Keith patted her head again, this time ruffling her hair. “Prime directive.”

“You don’t even like Star Trek,” Pidge accused, but her lips pulled up. It wasn’t exactly right, but he wasn’t wrong either.

“If I have to listen to you, Hunk, and Shiro making those stupid jokes all the time, I’m going to use them to my advantage.”  With that, Keith nodded to the door.  “We should go.”

Right.  Sighing, Pidge opened the door.

And walked straight into one of the nobles.

He looked down his nose at Pidge, like she was a troublesome bother who had purposefully appeared out of thin air to personally annoy her.  Then he paused.  His eyes tracked up to Keith, then back to Pidge. Then to the small room they’d left.

It only took a couple of seconds for Pidge to register the implications.  The two of them, a tiny closet room, and Pidge’s hair was still messed up.

Oh, bother.

“What is this?” The noble asked, in the same tone he might have used for stepping in droppings.  “What are the two of you doing?”

“Uh-” Pidge glanced back at Keith, eyes wide.  He shot her an equally frazzled look.  “We were just talking.  I was catching up with-”

The noble scoffed.  “That that little room? Alone?  Together?  Looking like this?”  He gestured one thing, spindly arm at them both.  “Is this the kind of behavior your team indulges in?”

“It’s not like that!” Pidge replied, eyes narrowing.  She straightened up to her full height, which only barely reached the center of the noble’s chest.  “It’s nothing like that!”

All she got was a disbelieving, condescending noise.  “Oh really?”

“Yes!” Pidge insisted, fists clenched at her side.  Indignation rolled through her, so hot and powerful it made her feel lightheaded.  “You don’t understand anything, you small-mind-”

Keith stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.  “She’s my sister.”

The blatant lie - especially so calmly delivered - made Pidge pause.

The noble paused too.  “I’m sorry?”

“She’s my younger sister,” Keith replied, still equally bland.  “I apologize for the yelling, but you can understand why that accusation would be upsetting.”

Jaw working, the noble glanced between them.  “But you were in-”

“We didn’t know the rooms,” Pidge shot back, still venomous.  “It was the wrong door.”

The noble still didn’t look convinced, but now they at least looked less smug about it.  “How do I know this is true?”

“Ask our leader,” Keith replied, without so much as a blink.  His hand tightened on Pidge’s shoulder, like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his temper.  “Or anyone who knows us.  They’ll tell you.”

The noble sniffed, but gave a jerky nod.  He continued to stare like he was looking for holes in their story.

Shifting closer to Keith until her back touched his chest, Pidge shot him a defiant look.  It was a platonic gesture, but still spoke of being comfortable in each other’s presence.

“Very well,” he replied, nose in the air.  “You should still be in your proper area, Green Paladin.  Not everyone will be as understanding as me.”

Pidge bared her teeth in what was nominally a smile.  “Oh, I’m sure.”

With the both of them staring him down, the noble could only huff and start back on his way, spine straight and tall.

As soon as he was gone, Pidge let out her breath.  “What a jerk!”

“No kidding,” Keith replied.  “You okay?”

Pidge huffed but nodded.  “Yeah.  Good thinking.”  It grated a little that Keith had come up with a solution while she’d still been blinded by temper, but she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

Shrugging, Keith waved her off.  “You’ve been strung out all day.  And I’m not the one taking crap and being separated.  I had more distance.”

True, but still annoying.

“Thanks,” she sighed.  “I should go before I get us in trouble.”  Glancing up at him, she frowned.  “What if he does ask someone?”

Keith snorted.  “Shiro will go along with it.”  Then he paused.  “Usually.”  From the distant look in his eyes, he was probably thinking of the trial at the Blade of Marmora.

Well, that was different.  Shiro hadn’t known what the right answer was then.  With someone stuffy like that noble sneering down his nose, any of the others would probably agree just to take him down a peg, even if they didn’t know the context.

It was why they were a team.  They had each other’s backs.

It was why they were a family, even if they weren’t siblings.

“You going to be okay?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” Pidge replied.  “I will be.”

It was only for a few hours.

And Pidge knew the others were looking out for her.  That helped.


	19. Painting a room

j-j-leroy asked:

Painting a room and things end up in a paint fight

* * *

Between the seven of them, the Voltron team was incredibly busy.  There was always training to be done, the castle to fix and clean, information to absorb, machines to build, fights to prepare for- easily two dozen people’s worth of effort split between less than ten.

However, once in a blue moon, certain conditions struck.

Projects were on pause until proper supplies could be found.  Repairs were holding for the moment.  There were no local distress signals, no messages from their allies.  No immediate battles to fight, nothing they knew to prepare for.

There was always something to be done, but those tasks weren’t always the most pressing.

Or interesting.

“This whole room?” Lance asked in dismay.  He held the handle of his paint roller in one hand, the other sulkily pushed into the pocket of his jacket.

It was hard to argue the room didn’t need a good layer of paint.  The previous coat was cracked and faded, giving the whole area a shabby feel.  While nearly all of the castle was bare-walled, relying instead on the inlayed lights for decorations, this seemed to be some sort of fancy meeting hall.

It was the sort of place that hadn’t need to be touched up when they were only fighting for their lives.  As they gained allies and prestige and took part in more political battles, well..

The room was needed, now.

But it was big.  And all of it needed painting.

“Indeed,” Coran agreed cheerfully.  “Shouldn’t take the five of you much longer than an afternoon.  Allura and I will continue cleaning up the main entrance hall and getting the scanners functional, but this will need time to dry and set.”

Pidge held her roller up between two fingers, eyeing it like it had personally offended her.  “There really isn’t- Coran, I could make something that’ll get the bots to do this for us.  It’s just painting.”

Sniffing, Coran shook his head.  “For next time, maybe, but we need this done now if it’ll dry in time.”

“Can’t we just use the hall we did with the Arusians?” Hunk asked.  “That worked last time.  I don’t understand why it has to be here.”

Coran stared at Hunk.  “Well, certainly it was alright for the Arusians, who were unused to the standards of the castle.  But an experienced dignitary will never accept a simple foyeur for such a meeting.  The insult it would be…”  He shivered.

Despite his own reluctance, Shiro held up a hand to stall further arguments.  “It’s just for today, and after we won’t have to do it again.  Right?”

Coran nodded, still giving them all peevish looks.  It seemed he felt their reluctance was sheer laziness.

To be fair, it absolutely was.

“Shiro,” Lance protested.

But Shiro shook his head.  “It needs to be done, and it’ll be over sooner if we just do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Coran encouraged.  “There’s more paint in the containers, and the platforms will get you anywhere you need to go.  Good luck!”  With that, he walked out quickly, barely throwing a wave over his shoulder before he was gone.

For a long moment, there was silence.

“Why do I feel like Coran and Allura just dumped the job they didn’t want on us?” Keith muttered.

Pidge sighed.  “Because that’s exactly what just happened.”

“Alright, pick a place to start,” Shiro called.  He extended the handle on his own roller.  “Be sure to be thorough.  If there’s any drips or patchy spots, you bet you’ll be back to do it again.”

Groaning, Hunk picked up one of the buckets of paint.  “Don’t even talk about doing this again.”

“Then do a good job.”

***

Shiro had expected them to split up to try and cover more ground, but that didn’t end up being the case.  Hunk and Keith took one side, and Shiro, Lance and Pidge ended up on the other.  

While Pidge focused on the moulding on the floor, Shiro and Lance each took one side of one of the huge, decorative plates beams wedged from wall to the center of the ceiling.  They’d been in even worse, flakey shape than the walls.  Having someone do one side while Shiro handled the other made the whole thing seem like less of an unbearable, daunting chore.

It was still exhausting work.  Shiro’s arms and shoulders ached from the repetitive work, especially on his right side, where his arm was heavier.

Shrio tried to be meticulous, because he really didn’t want to have to do this twice.  In the process he was perhaps a bit overzealous with the paint, but it wasn’t like they could run out.  Wherever Coran had gotten this, there was probably more.

Which was why he shouldn’t have been surprised when his section started to drip.

Right on top of Pidge’s head.

It took her a moment to realize what had happened.  Reaching up, she felt through her hair, and let out an unhappy groan when her hand came back the same desaturated purple color of the walls.  

Guilt made Shiro look away before Pidge could follow the direction of the drip.  So he must have seemed occupied to her when she glared up.

“Lance!” She called.  “C’mon, really?”

“Lance, what?” Lance shot back.  His voice was on the direct opposite side of the beam.

Oh, huh. Shiro had thought he’d be farther up by now.

Pidge held up her hand and waved it at him.  “This is what!  Be careful up there!”

“I am!” Lance shot back.  “Wasn’t me.  You sure you didn’t get it in your own hair?”

“Yeah, I managed to drip paint down on top of my own head.  Good call, genius.”

Lance huffed.  “Whatever.  I didn’t do it.”

Shooting another glare up, Pidge sneered but didn’t continue the argument.  It was obvious she didn’t believe Lance for a second.  And to be fair, it was certainly something he’d do, by accident or by design.

Neither of them seemed to even consider it might be meticulous, measured Shiro.

Really, what Shiro should have done was go back to painting.  He was supposed to be responsible and level-headed, supposed to lead by example as best he could.

But Shiro was also the same guy who used to sneak out of the Garrison on the regular.  He was the same guy who got up to whatever he wanted, then smiled his way out of trouble with his shining reputation.  He’d gotten away with more intentional insubordination than anyone else he knew of.

Keith wouldn’t have been fooled by Shiro’s act, but Lance and Pidge didn’t know better.

And that was just irresistible.

So Shiro tilted his head and dangled the roller right above Pidge’s hair.

Then he gave it a shake.

Shiro pulled the roller back to the beam before the paint even hit Pidge’s hair, so he was well into a motion by the time she shrieked angrily and looked up.

“Lance!”

Over the top of the beam, Shiro saw Lance start.  He grabbed onto the top of it, then made a face when his hand came back covered in paint.  “What?” He snapped.

“Stop doing this!” Pidge demanded, shaking her roller at him.  It sent flecks of paint all over her face and the front of her shirt, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Lance glared down.  “I’m not doing anything!  Stop getting paint in your stupid hair.”

“I’m not doing this, and you know it!” Pidge pushed her hair back.  This time it was more than just a drip - the hair on top of her head was soaked and coated the ugly purple.  “Good luck without hot water for the next month.”

Mouth falling open, Lance stared at her.  “I didn’t- seriously?  I didn’t do anything!”

Yeah, Shiro should have spoken up.  It would have been easy to claim he hadn’t realized he was dripping.  That he was ever so sorry, he hadn’t meant to, are you okay, Pidge?

But dammit, if he did that his game would end.  And it was funny.

“Right, sure,” Pidge replied.  “It just magically fell out of the sky.”

Lance made a wordless noise of frustration.  “Think what you want.  But if you turn off my hot water I’m going to get you back.”

“Oooh.  Get me back.  I’m scared.”

This time, Pidge picked up her roller and moved, taking several steps to the right, away from Lance.

Unfortunately for her, she was still in Shiro’s range.

He waited until they were both focused on their patches again.  Then Shiro slowly extended his roller over Pidge’s head.

Right before Shiro could shake it, something cold and squishy hit his face.

“Shiro!” Lance cried, pure betrayal in his voice.  “Seriously?”

Shiro glanced at him, expression as flat as he could manage when his face was covered in purple paint.  “What?”

For a moment, his even tone worked.  Lance paused like he wasn’t as sure of himself anymore.

It was just long enough a pause for Pidge to look up, and for the gloob of thick paint on the end of Shiro’s roller to finally drip off.

Which then landed right onto Pidge’s upturned face.

Whoops.

“Sorry,” Shiro called, voice still perfectly even.  “I wasn’t watching what I was doing.”

Lance’s roller smacked him in the face again, finally cracking Shiro’s calm facade.  “Liar!  I watched you!  You’re going to pull that when I literally just saw you do it?”

Under them, Pidge yanked off her glasses and wiped over her face, leaving a huge splotch over her sleeve. “That was-?”  She let out a furious hiss.  “I thought it was Lance.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.”

“You’d do it,” Pidge shot back darkly.  Lance only shrugged in response.  “Oh, it’s on, Shirogane.”

Shiro tilted his head, considering.

Then he shook the roller again, harder this time.  A small shower of paint drops ran over Pidge.

Cursing darkly at him, Pidge rolled out of the way.  At first he thought she was just dodging, but then he realized she was going for the console on the wall.

The one that would override the floating platforms and bring them back down.

“Uh oh,” Shiro murmured mildly.  He ducked Lance’s next strike, bending his spine backwards like he was playing limbo.  “Pidge, I’m very sorr-”

“Not yet you’re not,” Lance interrupted.  He vaulted over the top of the beam so he was on the same side as Shiro, making it much harder for him to avoid Lance’s attacks.  It splattered over Shiro’s shoulder and chest, heavy and wet.

Shiro laughed, surprisingly delighted at being called out.  On the other side of the room he could hear Hunk and Keith calling to them.  He ignored that easily and used his roller to parry Lance’s next strike, scoring his own gloop blotch on the side of Lance’s face.

Just then, the platform shuddered and began to lower.

“This would be my stop,” Shiro said.  He grabbed onto the beam, with every intention of climbing onto it and waiting out the storm below.

But Lance was too quick to respond.  He grabbed onto the back of Shiro’s shirt with an iron grip.  It might not have been enough to drag Shiro off the bar, except he also slammed his roller into the back of Shiro’s neck.  Hard.

The blow wasn’t significant, but the sheer feel of cold, gooey paint on the delicate nape of his neck made Shiro jolt, which forced him to let go.

By the time he got control of himself, he was nearly at the floor.

Where Pidge was waiting.

Giving a war cry, Pidge hopped over the railing of the platform, jabbing Shiro in the stomach with her roller.  The force of it made Shiro totter backwards, his balance shot from Lance’s grab and the disgusting feeling of paint dripping down his back.  

Shiro fell, taking Lance with him by sheer weight.  Both of them tumbled backward, Lance’s knees hitting the railing and sending them both to the floor in a painful heap.

Popping up, Shiro glanced backward, real regret taking over his expression.  He wasn’t exactly light, these days.  “Are you okay, Lance?  Nothing broken?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Lance replied.  He sat up, then groaned.  “No thanks to you. How much does that arm wei- oh, crap!”

Shiro followed Lance’s horrified line of sight just in time to see Pidge raise a can of paint over them.  Her glasses flashed in the light, at least where they weren’t purple, as she dumped it over both of them.

While Shiro and Lance were both sputtering from that, there was a clatter across the room.  Keith’s roller was dropped on the floor, abandoned, and he took a handful of paint in each hand.  His expression was steely and serious.

Then he lobbed it.

The first strike got Pidge on the shoulder.  It covered one of the few parts of her that had still been clean.  The second one went wild, falling short and splattering on Lance’s back.

“Hey!” Lance cried.  “What was that for, jerk?”

“I didn’t do anything to you!” Pidge groaned.  “Why does everyone want me covered in paint?”

Keith’s chin went up.  “You were ganging up on Shiro.”  Then he shrugged.  “And I was aiming for Pidge, really.”

Both of them turned to him, gazes dark.  Shiro smiled back and shot Keith a calm thumbs-up.  “Good shot, buddy.  I think you did great.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lance growled.  “I’ll show both of you a good shot.”

With that, he grabbed Pidge’s abandoned roller and lobbed it at Keith.

Lance’s aim was true, but Keith was just too fast.  He ducked out of the way, brow pinched.

Instead, the roller caught Hunk full in the chest.

Looking down at the huge patch of purple paint on his chest, Hunk’s expression went flat.  “Okay,” he replied, voice surprisingly mild.

Uh oh.

Shiro started to get up, but the paint made the floor under him slick.  “Um, Hunk.”

“No, this is good.  This is fine.”

Lance held up both his hands nervously.  “Hunk, buddy, my bad.  Actually, no, not my bad.  Blame Keith, it’s his fault.”

“You threw it!”

“You dodged it!”

“Of course I-” Keith cut off as Hunk grabbed onto the back of his shirt.  With his other hand, he reached down and heaved up one of the huge buckets of paint they’d been refilling from.

_Uh oh._

Shiro grabbed onto the railing of the floating platform and used that to lift himself up.  “Now, Hunk, I think we can talk this out.”

Rather than reply, Hunk pushed Keith forward.  On the wet floor, his boots slid effortlessly.  Keith sailed forward, his arms windmilling, until his feet caught Lance’s thighs.  He went down hard, sending them both sprawling back on the floor.

Pidge cleared her throat.  “Yeah, we might have gotten a little out of hand, but we can all just get cleaned up and- Hunk, no!”

Now with both hands free, Hunk heaved the container back and then forward, covering all four of them in a wave of ugly, purple paint.

And that was just a declaration of _war._

***

Allura stood in front of the paladins, arms crossed.  Her dress was rucked up an inch, so it wouldn’t brush against the soaked floor.

The room was covered in paint, but not the way they’d been asked to.  Sure, there was plenty on the walls, enough to considering it properly covered, if perhaps unevenly.

Far more was on the floor.

Even more was on the five of them.

“I would like an explanation,” Allura said, her lips pinched.

The five of them shared a glance.  “We, uh… we painted the room,” Lance offered.  “Like you asked.”

“I certainly can’t argue that,” Allura replied, tone cooling further.  “There is definitely paint in this room.”

They fell silent again, none of them wanting to speak up.

But, well, this was Shiro’s fault.  Unequivocally.  He had been the one to start it with every intention of being mischievous.

Which meant it was his job to get them out of trouble, if he could.

Hands folded politely in his lap, Shiro ducked his head slightly, properly respectful.  “Princess, my apologies, but… I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

That made everyone in the room freeze.

Allura looked over the utter mess of the room, then arched her brows at Shiro.  “You don’t.”  It wasn’t a question.  It was closer to a threat.

Shiro nodded slowly.  “I’m sorry. You asked us to paint, and that’s what we did.”  He paused, as if something was occurring to him.  “Does ‘paint’ mean something else to Alteans?”

For the first time, Allura faltered.

Glancing at Shiro, Pidge nodded.  “This is how we’ve always done it,” she agreed.  

“I was wondering why there was no tarp,” Hunk added, voice only shaking slightly.  “I figured you had something to clean the floor off.”

“Like I said,” Lance interjected, just louder and stronger this time.  “We did what you said.  We painted the room.”  He offered Allura a shining smile.

Brows up, Allura glanced at Keith.  He shrugged back.

Allura met Shiro’s eyes one last time, gaze searching.  He stared right back, the picture of mildly confused innocence.  

“Next time I will have to be more clear,” Allura allowed.  She shook her head, but it wasn’t in disbelief.  It was the familiar ‘humans are so strange and backwards’ look.

Shiro had never been so glad to see it.

Giving a last sigh, Allura waved them on.  “Go clean up.”

“Yes, Princess,” Shiro replied, standing up and nodding to her.  “We apologize for the misunderstanding.”

“Just go.”

The dismissal sent them all scampering.  As soon as the door closed safely behind them, Lance burst into cackles. “That was great!”

Hunk made a face as he pushed his bangs back.  “Says you.  I’m sticky.”

“She believed us!  I can’t believe it!  Shiro lied to Allura.”

Pidge elbowed him.  “Shut up, these walls aren’t totally soundproof, and her ears are good.”

Pumping his fist in the air, Lance gave a mostly silent victory lap.  “I had no idea you could do that.”

“Seriously?”  Keith eyed Shiro, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.  “He used to lie like that to commanders all the time.”

“That’s not true,” Shiro replied, tone mild.  “I lied to the Captains and Rear Admirals too.”

While Lance was still giving him a shiny-eyed look, Pidge snorted.  “Yeah, you and everyone with half a brain.  Whatever.  You’re lucky you got us out of trouble, or else you’d be washing off without hot water.”

Shiro inclined his head.  “Fair.  Speaking of showers.”

“Yes, please,” Hunk groaned, shouldering his way forward.  “You know what the best part is, though?”

“What?” Keith asked.

“We’ll never have to do this again.”

Lance paused, eyes wide. “ What other chores could we convince them we shouldn’t do?”  He glanced at Shiro hopefully.

Biting back a smile, Shiro shook his head.  “No, they take on enough responsibilities.  We should do our fair share.”

“Fiiine,” Lance groaned, trudging along much less enthusiastically.

It was the right thing to do.

Getting out of it was just plan B.


	20. Pidge and Keith meet Black Lion!Possessed Shiro

Anonymous asked:

I'm sorry if this isn't the type of prompt your looking for but I thought that idea of the black lion being able to take over her pilot in an emergency was interesting and I'd love to see Keith and pidge's reaction whether they see it first hand or hear about it from lance and hunk :))

I’m looking for all kinds of prompts!

For the curious, the fic in question is [here](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8604676%2Fchapters%2F19817161&t=ZGI1YjdiOWY2YmU0OWM3MTY0MjJlYTU1MmM0MWM3MzU5M2I5Y2MwNyxmZ296clF0cQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AExw1YooyB3ZeotoXs9tpsg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbosstoaster.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162989670247%2Fim-sorry-if-this-isnt-the-type-of-prompt-your&m=0).  Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it, so thank you for the reminder.

* * *

Of all the members of the team, Keith considered himself the most used to how strange Shiro could be when the mood struck.  No one else had seen Shiro go through phases of almost obsessive interest, no one else had heard him laugh over their potential deaths after wiping out in the desert, no one else had seen the way he’d carry on outrageously over anything but a perfect score on a test or essay.

That being said, this was still odd.

First of all, there was no reason Shiro should have been out of bed.  Allura had personally banished him to his room after their last battle, once he’d admitted he hadn’t slept that night, and not really the night before.  It had shown, which was proof enough how bad the situation had gotten.

Secondly, Shiro had taken over the kitchen, which was not at all his usual domain.  Thankfully he wasn’t trying to cook anything, but he had a line of bowls spanning the entire fifteen-foot length of the counter space.  Each one was filled with small amount of- well, of just about every kind of food they had, it seemed like.  They were all perfectly lined up two inches from the edge.  As they watched, Shiro put the last one down, then readjusted it until it matched the others.

So this was odd.  Even for Shiro.

Keith glanced over at Pidge, who looked equally baffled at the display.  Her eyes were wide with a silent question.   _ Um, what?  _ He shrugged back -  _ no clue. _

“Shiro?” Pidge asked.  “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is well,” Shiro replied, tone flat and affectless.

Yeah, funnily enough, that didn’t make Keith feel better.

Once the last bowl was in place, Shiro walked all the way back to the start of the row.  He heaved himself up onto counter and sat on top of it, then picked up the first bowl.  Using his foot, he opened one of the drawers and withdrew a spoon, then started to eat.  

With each bite, Shiro paused, brow furrowed like he was considering something very important.  Finally, once every scrap of food was gone, he nodded, then put the empty bowl in the cleaning unit.  Without a word, he started on the next one.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Keith asked, taking a cautious step forward.  “You’re-” What was the polite way of saying ‘you’re kind of freaking me out right now’?

Shiro looked at them again, head tilted.  “My paladin is fine,” he confirmed.

My pala-

Oh. 

Lance and Hunk had mentioned this, the one time Shiro had managed to make this sort of connection.  The news had thrilled Allura and Coran, even when they’d been told it was essentially a fluke.

The fact that the lions could override their paladins hadn’t made Keith feel especially comfortable.  Learning that it was only with permission helped, but he still didn’t like it.  Luckily, Red hadn’t expressed any desire to even try.  When he’d asked, he’d gotten the sense that Keith should be able to get out of situations on his own, or else Red would come get him in their vastly superior metal body.

Frankly, that worked for Keith.

“Okay,” Pidge replied carefully.  “Hello, um, lion.”

Shiro gave a distracted nod.  Once he finished the bowl, he made a face and dropped it down into the cleaning unit as well.  “No. Not a good taste.”

“Sorry about that,” Pidge said, her eyes cutting to Keith again.  “But, um, Allura said Shiro was supposed to be in bed.”

“My paladin required nutrients,” Shiro - okay, the Black Lion - said.  “He is resting.  Mentally.”  Then he (she?  they?) looked down Shiro’s nose at them both.  “The Princess may rule you, but she does not rule me.”

Oh, Allura would just love hearing that tone.

Keith hesitated.  “Does Shiro know you’re, um-” taking his body for a culinary joy ride - “up and about?”

The Black Lion gave Keith a flat look. “Of course.  He is aware.  Mostly.  But he is resting.”  The expression turned into a glare.  “Do not disturb him.”

Well okay then.

Keith was ready to give the lion the benefit of the doubt and make his escape, honestly.  The whole thing was weird, but Shiro had just been embarrassed of it last time.  Lance hadn’t stopped teasing about giving Shiro ear scratches for a solid week, so fair.

But apparently Pidge had other plans.  She climbed up next to the Black Lion on the counter and watched the experiment.  “You’re seeing which ones taste better?”

“Taste is interesting,” the Black Lion replied.  “Why do chemical compounds with such minute chemical make-ups cause such extreme reactions?”  When Pidge opened her mouth, the Black Lion held up a hand.  “It was explained.  I simply wish to experience it.”

Lips curling up, Pidge reached over the Black Lion as comfortably as she would have with Shiro.  “Try this one, next.”

The Black Lion put aside the latest bowl, then took Pidge’s offer.  “My paladin says you are ‘messing’ with me.”  She paused.  “What does it mean to mess someone?”  There was a silence like someone was offering an answer.  “Why is that messy?”

Yeah, Hunk had been right.  That was very weird.

“Are you going to try it?” Pidge asked, smiling eagerly.  

The Black Lion nodded firmly, as if waving off mental objections.  “Yes, I am.”  But after one bite, they froze.  “Oh.  That is... That is displeasing.”

Snickering, Pidge glanced at Keith.  “Yeah, the food goo is pretty bad.”

So even the lions thought it was disgusting?

Or, wait.  The Black Lion was using Shiro’s mouth and Shiro’s perceptions of good and bad.  So she was really just trying out his tastes.

Interesting.

“It is terrible,” the Black Lion replied, taking another bite.  “Amusing.”  A smile curled up Shiro’s lips.

Well, when taste at all was novel, even bad ones were a fun experience.  Though Keith could imagine Shiro’s feelings on the subject.

Ah, well.  Apparently this somehow both checked off Shiro taking a break and getting his nutrients.  Despite how odd the lion was, Keith doubted she would do anything that harmed Shiro, even in such a little way.  So it couldn’t bother him that much.

Even so, Keith bet that Shiro would be more comfortable if they weren’t feeding the Black Lion anything disgusting.

Walking along the counter, Keith started to pick out a few items, mentally cataloguing what he could recognize from Hunk’s cooking.  Then he placed them all down next to the Black Lion.

The action earned him a pout.  “I was getting to those.”

Keith arched a brow, far too used to Shiro in a sulk to be bothered.  “Trust me.”

The Black Lion stared back, considering.  Then she nodded.  “Alright.”  She picked one up and tried it tentatively, then perked.  “Oh.  It tastes like... cheese?”  The word was slow and drawn out, like it had to be felt in the mouth.

“A little,” Pidge agreed, watching in fascination.  “Since you have different memories from Shiro, do you think your tastes are different?”

The Black Lion shook her head.  “No.  I have no memory of taste.”  But then she paused.  “But I did share memories with my former paladin.  So perhaps.”

Huh.

Pidge let out a chuckle, then clapped her hand over her mouth.  “Sorry, I was just thinking- going on a secret mission that makes all the food in the main fleet taste like something Zarkon hates.”

“That would be very petty,” the Black Lion mused.  Then she nodded.  “I would enjoy that.”  Finishing up that bowl, she moved onto the next.

Then she let out a yelp.  “It burns!”

Keith’s smiled toothily. “I may have mixed in a surprise.”

Snatching up another, the Black Lion sucked on the spoon, full on sulking again.  “I trusted you,” she mourned.  “You are rude.”  There was another pause.  “Stop laughing.”

Maybe this wasn’t great for Shiro’s rest, but if Keith was making him laugh somehow, it was very worth it.  “I humbly apologize,” he drawled.  

“I do not believe you are being sincere,” the Black Lion muttered.

Pidge grinned.  “Want me to give you more suggestions instead?”

Considering her, the Black Lion slowly shook her head.  “No.  I do not believe that would be wise.”

“Aww.”

Taking the next bowl, the Black Lion paused.  “This is sweet.  I like this.”  She looked at Keith.  “Are any of the others tricks?”

Keith’s expression softened.  “No.  The rest are what Shiro likes.”

“Oh.”  Smiling softly, the Black Lion nodded.  “I- Thank you.”

Judging by the tone, for just a second, that had been Shiro again.

By the end of Keith’s choices, the Black Lion’s jaw was working in a muffled yawn, exhaustion catching up.  She blinked slowly, like a contented cat, and Shiro’s normally perfect posture slumped forward.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Pidge commented, patting the metal arm.

The Black Lion frowned.  “The food will go to waste.”

Yeah, that was probably a Shiro objection, no matter who said it.  Keith shook his head.  “We’ll finish them up, and some of this we can put away.”

That got him another slow, sleepy blink.  “I see.”  The Black Lion stood, then frowned down at Shiro’s legs.  “Being organic is inconvenient.”

“I say that every day,” Pidge offered.  “C’mon, I’ll help you down the hall.  It’s the least I can do, since Shiro does this for me all the time.”

The Black Lion nodded, the movement loose. “Yes.  That would be wise.”  She tumbled forward, and Pidge stepped closer, acting as a brace.  “You are very small.”

“Don’t start with me.”

Pidge glanced over her shoulder, brows up in question -  _ can you start cleaning? _

Nodding back, Keith waved them on.  “Sleep well.”

“He will, I assure you,” the Black Lion replied, before the door closed behind them both.

Odd.  Very odd.

But not the weirdest thing that had happened to them so far.

Keith rubbed his temples and sighed.  Space was  _ weird. _  But as long as it wasn’t bad, he could manage.

It was easier to deal with when he didn’t have to clean dishes, though.


	21. Shiro uses the Black Bayard

 

 

ANONYMOUS ASKED:

Pretty pretty please first time Shiro activates the black bayard and it doe turn into wings and everyone's various ????!!!???????? Reactions

I got you, Nonny.  Because I love you.

* * *

Shiro frowned down at the black bayard.

It remained unmoved by his irritation.

“It’s really not hard,” Keith muttered, brow furrowed thoughtfully.  He stared at the bayard like the sheer force of his gaze would force it to activate.  It remained stubbornly in its original shape.  “You just… do it.”

Huffing, Shiro eyed him.  “Thanks.”

Keith crinkled his nose in response, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm.  Well, good, ‘cause Shiro didn’t appreciate his ‘just do it’ advice.  And if that was hypocritical (and it was, Shiro knew, thinking of the time he’d pushed the hoverbike off the cliff to make Keith figure out a trick), he didn’t care right now.

Reaching over, Hunk tapped the side of it, then yanked his hand back like the black bayard would bite.  “Maybe Zarkon did something to it?  It looked different for him, right?”

“But it worked in the lion,” Pidge replied, peering around Hunk’s bulk to look as well.  “So shouldn’t it work here?”

Lance tilted his head.  “But that’s not really the bayard, is it?  It’s the lion reacting to the bayard.  So if it was messed up by Zarkon, it might not affect that part.”

“Princess,” Shiro called, glancing up at her.  “Have you ever heard of something like this?”

Eyeing him blandly, Allura shook her head.  “No, the bayards have never refused anyone who was capable of being a paladin, and it’s quite clear you are.  Then again, it was also supposed to be impossible to call a lion across the universe or enter an astral plane with one.”

“Magic,” Coran confirmed, nodding.  “You can’t forget the magic part of the science.  Perhaps while your bond with the lion is strong, there’s a bond with the bayard you have to make.”

That…. well, Shiro could follow the logic, but he didn’t like it.  He had to prove himself  _again?_   How many times did he need to be confirmed as the Black Paladin for it to finally stick?

He gave one more try, concentrating on making it change.  Because Shiro desperately wanted to know.  Yes, it hadn’t been as important for him to get a weapon compared to the others, but… well, it had been a disappointment when he didn’t get to see what weapon matched his personality.  He knew his firearms, but he’d picked up enough swordplay to at least make Keith have to work for his consistent victories.  Or maybe he’d have something unique like Pidge, something only she had in the entire universe.

Or he’d have nothing.  Even with the bayard.

Shiro let the bayard reform itself into the suit, shaking his head.  “No sense worrying about it now.  We have training to do.”  There was a general grumble of disappointment, and Shiro had to promise to let Coran, Pidge and Hunk poke at it before they subsided enough to begin.

And Shiro did his best to put it out of his mind.  For now, at least.

* * *

Gritting his teeth, Shiro stared down the edge of the ledge to the rock below.  It was a sheer 30 foot drop from here, and figuring out the way down was going to take too long.

Shiro was useless as he watched his team fight without him.  

And they were holding their own.  But it couldn’t last long.

Okay, there had to be some kind of hand hold, some way to get down.  If he could just get halfway down, Shiro could justify rolling with the fall, and he’d be okay enough to keep fighting to help.

Below, there was a pained cry, and he saw Hunk go down, curling to protect one shoulder.  The yellow that had been visible, even from up on his perch, was gone, and instead there was black and smoke.

Any of his team going down would have been disastrous, overwhelmed as they were by sentries and the rogue Galra commander.  He has enough of the things to justify calling himself king of the planet and ruling with a renewed iron fist.

But Hunk was worse.  Hunk was the multi-shot, the one who could hold of the hordes.  And now he down, and when Lance turned to help, he was nearly hit as well.

Something in Shiro snapped, and he  _jumped._

It was habit that had his arm activating.  It was something instinctive, something deep, that had him pulling out the bayard.

Which changed.  But not into a weapon.  Or maybe it did, not what Shiro would have called one.

Shiro landed, the huge, metallic wings giving one powerful flap as he came to a safe stop.  The Galra commander froze, confusion warring with nerves on his face.

Smiling, Shiro  _thought,_  and the wings came around singing with energy, just like his hand.  Like six, floating, longer extensions of his arm.

Then he struck.

* * *

 “No fair,” Lance called later, while Hunk was helped to sit up by Keith.  He ducked down under the wings, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.  “Why’d you get the awesome thing?  We should all get wings.”

Hunk groaned and nursed his shoulder.  The armor had broken but not given, thank everything.  “I’m good without wings.  The lions are enough.”

On Shiro’s other side, Pidge held onto one of the metal edges, then yanked her hand back, cursing.  “It really does stretch the definition of weapon, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, tell that to them.”  Keith nodded to the mass of destroyed sentries.

“Fair,” Pidge admitted, nodding.  “Still.”

Shiro shrugged, and the wings spread out again, then folded together neatly behind him.  They didn’t go away, because Shiro didn’t want them to.  He was a little afraid he wouldn’t be able to summon it again.

He was also half-sure the murmur in the back of his mind was the Black Lion laughing at him.

“Okay, first of all, still super cool.  Second of all, I want a ride,” Lance declared.

Shiro frowned at him.  “Excuse me?”

“Ride.  You’re definitely flying us to the castle, right?”

“No!”

Pidge nodded.  “You definitely need to give us a ride.”

“I’d want a ride,” Keith offered.

Looking pale, Hunk shook his head.  “Not me, I’ll take the castle picking me up.”

“I’m not a taxi service,” Shiro pointed out, expression flat.

He didn’t fly them to the castle.

That time.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to suggest a prompt? Want to read these for yourself in real time? Don't use the awful horrible mobile app? Check out my [ tumblr](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com/)


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